


Bend the Knee

by RomaniaBlack



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Athletic Trainer Iwaizumi, Canon Compliant, College Years, Drinking, First Kiss, First Love, First Time, Fluff and Angst, Haikyuu 372 spoilers, Haikyuu Ending Spoilers, Haikyuu Olympics, Haikyuu Rio, Iwaizumi Ushijima friendship, M/M, Mutual Pining, Ninja Shoyo, Oikawa Tooru's Knee Injury, Oikawa Week 2020, POV Iwaizumi Hajime, POV Oikawa Tooru, Post-Time Skip, Pro Volleyball Player Oikawa Tooru, Sleepy Cuddles, Slow Burn, Unexpected Visitors, Volleyball Dorks in Love, haikyuu 395 spoilers, haikyuu 402 spoilers, iwaoi - Freeform, iwaoi proposal, mentions of yamaguchi - Freeform, sports science Iwaizumi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-01
Updated: 2020-07-20
Packaged: 2021-03-02 18:13:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 19,922
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24491092
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RomaniaBlack/pseuds/RomaniaBlack
Summary: *Spoilers for non-manga readers*Oikawa is off to Argentina to start playing in the Pro Argentinean League as setter.Iwaizumi is off to California to start college, majoring in Sports Science.Their journeys may diverge their relationship, but all streams lead to the same place, right?A short, couple-chapter Iwaoi fic, based on Chapters 371-374, 386, 395, and of COURSE Chapter 402 of the manga.Y'all, Iwaoi wins.
Relationships: Hinata Shouyou & Kageyama Tobio, Hinata Shouyou & Miya Atsumu, Hinata Shouyou & Oikawa Tooru, Iwaizumi Hajime/Oikawa Tooru
Comments: 39
Kudos: 252





	1. Summer, 2014

Iwaizumi was nearly finished packing his bags. He was currently trying to squeeze a hardback into his overstuffed backpack. It almost didn’t fit, but he was determined to make it work.

Oikawa, folding clothes into a suitcase at the end of Iwaizumi’s bed, raised an eyebrow playfully. “Planning to read on the plane, Iwa-Chan?”

“Well, it’s a 10-hour flight to California,” Iwaizumi shrugged, finally getting it to fit.

“Iwa-Chaaaan,” Oikawa plopped the last folded shirt into the suitcase and dramatically threw himself over the middle of the bed, “your flight is only ten hours! Do you know how long my flight is going to be?!”

“You’ve only told everyone a dozen t---”

“TWENTY-THREE HOURS!” Oikawa slung his arm over his head with a sigh, “It’s so unfair!”

“I don’t know how anyone is going to be able to handle you in an enclosed space for twenty-three hours,” Iwaizumi dead-panned, walking towards him and clasping the suitcase shut. He sat beside the suitcase, next to where Oikawa was sprawled out, “They’re probably going to have to sedate you before they cross the ocean.”

The setter lowered his arm to stare up at his best friend. A stillness had settled across the room, a quiet silence that only two close friends could maintain without a shred of awkwardness.

“I can’t believe it’s already here,” Oikawa said with a soft sigh. “Were Mattsun and Makki going to follow us to the airport?”

“No,” the ace shook his head, “They both had to work today,” He flipped his phone up and waved it towards Oikawa, “They said they’d text us the whole flight, though, if we got bored.”

The brunette smiled and rolled onto his side, his head facing Iwaizumi’s thigh. Oikawa slowly traced the stripe of Iwaizumi’s track pants with his finger. “Good,” was all he could reply, his voice thick with an unspoken hesitation.

***

After hustling to the airport, checking in, and finding their own gateways, the two had reached a crossroads, each needing to go a different direction.

Iwaizumi had been dreading this moment. He could tell from the shriveled frown on his best friend’s face that he was holding back from crying; Oikawa’s hands gripping the straps of his backpack so tightly his knuckles were white.

“Call me, Iwa-Chan?” Oikawa asked thinly, his voice trying not to crack, “When you touch down?”

“Of course,” there was no other answer. He wasn’t going to let Oikawa make him sappy now. He raised his arm and the two bumped fists. _It wasn’t like they were never going to see each other again_. _This was just a temporary expansion of the distance between them._ A step towards a more important goal.

The setter had already turned, likely to keep from crying, and was headed towards his gateway, when he heard his friend call to him.

“Oikawa,” Iwaizumi spoke up over his shoulder and gave his friend a soft smirk as he watched the setter look back, “You know it’s only twelve hours between Argentina and Irvine.”

It was all he had to say; that small affirmation that the distance between them wasn’t going to stop their friendship. Oikawa’s face broke into a sly grin, as he tossed his head back over his shoulder as well.

“Hmm…you don’t say?”


	2. Searching for Sunlight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Haikyuu!! Chapter 395 and Chapter 371-374 spoilers, for those anime-only's reading**
> 
> Iwaizumi is finding his groove in California, and Oikawa is settled in Argentina...the pining is real, though. 
> 
> Hinata and Seijoh make appearances.  
> That's all I'll say for now.

Iwaizumi found the beaches of California fantastic. His skinned was tanned and he loved the feel of the Pacific on his feet as he rolled up his jeans to walk along the coast after classes.

The only aspect of Irvine he was not used to yet was being without anyone he knew around. He had hung around with some of his classmates after class, but it was not any substitute for his former team back home. Luckily, he was able to keep contact with everyone from Seijoh with ease.

He held his phone above his head and waved a peace sign; behind him the sky was a purple and pink mixture, the sun setting to his right. After clicking the camera, he texted the picture to Oikawa with the caption, “How’s the sunset in Argentina?”

Ever since he had called Oikawa when he had touched down in Irvine, he had kept in contact with his best friend every day. They either called each other to talk, whether it was a few minutes or hours, or they at the very least, sent a picture to each other.

A few minutes passed and Iwaizumi’s phone buzzed as he walked down the boardwalk. Oikawa had responded with a selfie of his own – he was standing on a balcony of what Iwaizumi knew was his apartment. The phone was held high enough to get the lights of the city below in the background. Oikawa, wearing a white shirt with the top unbuttoned, was winking into the camera. The caption read back, “Sunsets are nice, but the night lights are better.”

Iwaizumi scoffed at the photo – _of course_ , he always forgot they were several hours ahead in Argentina. Oikawa clearly unbuttoned his shirt for effect; showing off his muscular upper body, his face still chiseled with a headful of wavy brown hair. Iwaizumi started musing on comebacks to his caption…but first, he saved Oikawa’s selfie to this phone.

* * *

It was in the start of Iwaizumi’s sophomore year that he stumbled across Ushijima on campus. Iwaizumi had been trying to schedule a meeting with the physical trainer of the Irvine Polar Bears, Takashi Utsui, for the last six months. After returning from an overseas sabbatical, Utsui had offered to meet Iwaizumi during his office hours. The former ace was elated; the chance to meet his long-time idol and discuss the texts he had spent high school reviewing had him riding a high all the way through the quad.

He turned the corner towards Utsui’s office when he saw the last person he had ever expected to see on U.S. soil: Wakatoshi Ushijima.

Three surprises came with this chance encounter: the first was that Ushijima was visiting California to watch the Irvine Polar Bears practice. He had hit a slump in his performance, something that amazed Iwaizumi, and wanted to get inspiration. The second shock was that Ushijima’s actual father was none other than Takashi Utsui. Iwaizumi had stammered in disbelief, as the giant ace calmly explained how he had taken his mother’s last name. Ushijima introduced a befuddled, incredulous Iwaizumi to his father shortly thereafter to meet; saying he would talk to his father later at dinner and was going to visit the gym while the two talked. Iwaizumi’s meeting went incredibly smooth and by the end of it, he was not only given an internship offer to work with Utsui after his college graduation, but was invited to practice with the Polar Bears, since, “You did play against my son in high school, after all.”

But the third surprise, Iwaizumi realized as the two sipped coffee in the quad after the meeting, was the Ushijima was not the stone cold, robotic monster he had been intimidated and furious with in high school. He was just… _awkward_. Underneath his cold exterior, he was a likable person. Much like Iwaizumi, he wasn’t a talker, but the more the two conversed, the more in common they actually had, especially when it came to talking about sports injuries; Ushijima having his father as a reference and Iwaizumi…well, Iwaizumi had practically grown up alongside a walking representation of “over doing it.”

The two chatted about Japan, what others were up to (the others that Ushijima had contacted, anyway), and spent an hour watching volleyball clips under the Californian trees. It was refreshing for Iwaizumi; after a year of having to make new friends and just call or text old friends, here he was with an old rival in the flesh. The familiarity of an acquaintance made him feel more alive than he had felt in months.

The two finally went to part ways, Iwaizumi to study and Ushijima to meet his father for dinner, but not before Iwaizumi held his phone up with a looming, mischievous expression.

“Lemme take a picture with you, so I can show off to Oikawa!”

Hours away, with the Argentinean sun setting behind him, Oikawa wiped the sweat from his brow and gazed out at the city ahead. He often did a quick jog before nightfall, to loosen up after practice. He felt his phone vibrate in his pants pocket and he quickly pulled it out, seeing Iwaizumi’s name pop up on the screen with an “attachment” symbol. _Iwa-chan is late texting today_ , he thought, unlocking the phone, _must have been busy_.

The photo was of Iwaizumi smiling as broadly as Oikawa had ever seen him smile, his free hand raised in a peace sign. Oikawa was so taken with the serene look of sheer happiness on his face and flash of his teeth, something Iwaizumi rarely did in his selfies, that he almost didn’t notice the figure next to him. Standing directly beside Iwaizumi was Wakatoshi Ushijima, looking stoic, but not unpleased in the photo.

Oikawa nearly dropped the phone in shock, the gasp escaping his mouth so loud, that bystanders on the street stopped to stare at him, one older woman asking if the stuttering and stammering Oikawa was okay.

It was a full thirty minutes before Iwaizumi received a reply. He smirked as he read the text:

_WHAT. THE. HELL. IWA-CHAN?!?!_

* * *

There sadly had not been a selfie of that magnitude that Oikawa could surprise Iwaizumi with in the three years that passed since he nearly died of a panic attack from the infamous Iwa-Chan/Ushiwaka selfie. Makki and Mattsun thought the selfie was an era-defining piece of art and made sure to send bi-weekly reminders of it to Oikawa. 

“It’s been nearly three _years_ , you two,” Oikawa snapped at them over the phone one evening, “It doesn’t affect me anymore!”

“Says the man telling us it doesn’t affect him anymore,” Makki snickered back, Mattsun’s laughter audible in the background.

Oikawa and Iwaizumi kept up with Seijoh; it was comforting to remain in contact with their friends, despite everyone taking such different paths after high school. 

The setter would have continued his argument with the two, but his coach was motioning that the team was heading towards the terminal. The group was flying to Rio for their annual training camp before the main season kicked off. It was not a huge change of scenery, but Oikawa loved any excuse to travel. He told the pair to shove it, along with a few other snide remarks, and slid his phone back into his jacket as the team boarded the plane.

That afternoon, after touching down in Rio, Oikawa and two of his teammates were meandering the outskirts of the city, hunting spots to get dinner, when he noticed a group playing beach volleyball. Intrigued, the three moved closer to check out the match – and as if struck by a the hands of fate itself, Oikawa found his mouth hanging open as he heard a distinct play called out in Japanese, the sun striking a head of orange hair at just the right angle.

“You’ve got to be kidding me!” Oikawa meant it as a whisper to himself, but it came out as a cry of disbelief.

The human tangerine whipped itself around, towards Oikawa, and the setter found himself face-to-face with Shoyo Hinata.

 _Chibi-chan_ , Oikawa mused, but this was not the same toothpick he had played in high school. Four years since their last match against one another, Shoyo was nearly twenty; he was slightly taller, tanner from the Rio sun, and stockier. Had it not been for his voice and outlandish orange hair, Oikawa would not have recognized him.

“G-Great King!” Hinata stammered, his hazel eyes shining with surprise.

“Hold on,” Oikawa whipped out his phone before Hinata could say another word, the rush of adrenaline in this chance meeting reminding him that the time had finally arrived:

 _Payback_.

“YEAH!” Oikawa triumphantly yelled, giving the camera a goofy grin with his tongue flashing. Hinata did one better, uttering a whooping battle cry to match. The camera flashed, and Oikawa reveled in the glorious image.

 _I wish I could see the look on all their faces,_ he smirked devilishly, forwarding it to every Seijoh member.

Then, pausing, his smirk evolved into a full-on childish grin as he added Tobio Kageyama to the list of people to send it to. _Let’s see how you like your precious middle blocker getting a change of scenery…_

Hinata cocked his head at Oikawa, noticing the fiendish grin on his face, “What are you doing?”

“Oh,” Oikawa set his phone to silent, giddy with excitement that he could check it later for all the juicy, jealous replies he was likely to receive, “Just happy to photograph the moment!”

Hinata and Oikawa continued to converse, hardly believing that they were seeing each other in Rio of all places. When Hinata explained he was practicing beach volleyball, Oikawa scoffed at him dismissively, but inside he was secretly jealous of the genius of such a strategy. Hinata was fast, with good reflexes, and incredible stamina…but he hadn’t been masterful at many other things, like technique, receives, or serves for that matter…even by the end of third year, he was still slightly amateur at those parts of the game. But by playing beach volleyball, he had to get better – or he would lose. Beach volleyball was a two-person game. There was not much room for error.

Oikawa’s teammates got the hint that this reunion could take a while, so they excused themselves to dinner, leaving the setter with Hinata to catch up. The two ended up getting their own dinner, reminiscing about volleyball and what they had been doing the last four years; the night ended with a one-on-one challenge from a pair of locals.

After losing, Hinata begged Oikawa to come back and team up with him for a rematch. _What the hell, why not?_ Oikawa shrugged, _he was there all week for the training camp, anyway_. It was good to be around someone familiar, and it gave him a chance for continued practice after the camp hours were over.

The pair met for a series of rematches that week; by the third night, his teammates were so used to Oikawa being distracted by playing with Hinata, that they opted to just casually tell their setter they were leaving for dinner without him. Oikawa did not seem to mind, though; he was too caught up in this new game and the chance to play with Hinata in it.

Hinata had changed. He was physically older, no longer a gangly, energetic teenager, but a built, confident man in his twenties. There was a sense in his build with how much he had been practicing in the sand and in the indoor court there in Rio. He was stronger, not only physically, but mentally as well. His optimism remained, but there was a maturity around it that was not unseen by the grand king.

The final night Oikawa was in Rio, he and Hinata challenged the local duo to one more game and finally won. Though they did not get protein shakes from the win, they agreed to dine with the pair at a local restaurant. The night was filled with food, sake, and the four laughing at various stories of indoor versus beach volleyball. It was the first night in a while that Oikawa could cut loose without the fear of having to put on a facade. The pair they faced would likely never see Oikawa again, and Hinata – well, with Hinata you didn’t have to put on a pretense either.

After several drinks and hours of conversation, the locals decided to break off and leave for the night. Oikawa and Hinata waved goodbye to them in the street outside the restaurant. Their waves lasted until they disappeared, leaving Oikawa and Hinata standing together under the lights of downtown Rio.

“What do we do now?” Hinata smiled up at the Grand King, his cheeks rosy from drinking. Oikawa was honestly surprised how much the shorter athlete could handle.

“Hmm,” Oikawa tapped his chin, feigning innocence, “We could hit up the other bars in Rio…” he mused, looking around. Hinata whined, tugging on his jersey,

  
“But Oikawa! We’ve drank enouggggh,” He slurred, shaking his head. It was true; they had splurged at the restaurant that night, and Oikawa could feel the tingling through his toes to his wrists, signaling to him the alcohol was pulsing through his system. “Plus, I don’t want to spend anymore tonight!”

 _That’s the truth of it_ , Oikawa smiled inwardly, giving Hinata considerate glance. “That’s alright,” He stretched his arms above him, “I’m about beat for the night anyway.” He glanced down at Hinata, “Want to hang out a little longer, though? My hotel isn’t far from here.”

It was a flimsy offer, and Oikawa knew it, but Hinata just beamed that sunshine smile, “Sure! Let’s go!”

Oikawa blinked, amazed at his immediate response. Before he could respond, Hinata was already looking around him, “Which way is it?”

Regaining his composure, Oikawa coughed and pointed behind them, “Erhm, that way a few blocks.”

The two walked side-by-side down the crowded street; occasionally brushing each other’s arms as they made it through the crowd. The Great King caught himself glancing continuously down at Hinata, who on occasion would meet his glances and smile wide. Oikawa hoped the night lights would hide the flush spreading across his skin.

Iwaizumi had told Oikawa a week ago that he had been on a date.

It should not have been a surprise to Oikawa. Iwaizumi was an attractive man; they were twelve hours apart; they technically weren’t even dating. But a sense of betrayal crawled through his stomach as Iwaizumi called to tell him.

“I don’t know if we’ll go on a second one, though,” there was a hint of guilt in his voice.

“Iwa-Chan don’t be so down on yourself,” Oikawa had replied as cheerfully as he could, “I’m surprised you haven’t had people dying at your feet over there! I’m happy for you, Iwa-Chan!”

But inside, a feeling of jealousy gnawed at the setter. _Why was he jealous?_ It would be insane to think that the two of them could be apart for over three years and neither of them go on a date with _anyone_ else. Of course, Oikawa hadn’t really dated anyone in Argentina all those years, despite having numerous men and women wink and offer him flirty glances during practices and games.

At the hotel, Oikawa ordered in late-night room service, which consisted of a bottle of sweet plum sake and a plate of cocadas. “Oooh, fancy!” Hinata laughed, “This is definitely a late-night snack fit for a grand king!”

Oikawa laughed, pouring them both a glass of sake. “You think so?” The two clinked glasses with a chuckle and dug into the cocadas, discussing where their friends were now, which were still playing volleyball and others who had moved on to other careers.

Their conversation dived late into the evening, Oikawa glancing at the clock to see it was already two in the morning. “Chibi-chan,” he mused, twirling his glass, “do you have to work tomorrow?”

“Not until later in the afternoon,” Hinata finished his last cocada. “I get Saturday mornings off.”

“Mmhmm,” Oikawa hummed, this piece of information enticing him to be bold. “Good,” the sake in his system was making him bold. He reached forward and grabbed Hinata, hugging the shorter man into his lap, relaxing backwards against the headboard. His back against Oikawa’s chest, the former middle blocker gazed over his shoulder curiously.

“Uhhm, Oikawa?” Hinata’s eyebrows raised.

“It’s late,” the setter sighed, his head resting atop Hinata’s, “And I won’t have you roaming the streets of Rio alone at this time of night.” He tightened his arms around Hinata’s chest. The orange-haired boy’s eyes widened, and then he chuckled,

“I’ve roamed home from the streets at night before. It’s not that big of a deal.”

“No, I won’t hear it,” Oikawa shook his head, playfully. “Just stay here tonight and I’ll buy your cab in the morning.” His legs squeezed gently against Hinata’s sides and the orange-haired man suddenly turned, breaking Oikawa’s grip and turning to sit in Oikawa’s lap, still, but now facing him.

“Oikawa,” Hinata’s gaze had turned serious, despite the hazy, drunken blush spread across his cheeks. It was a look that froze the setter in his place. “I’m not a kid anymore.”

It took a second for Oikawa to find his voice. “I know that.”

Hinata’s cheeks were a fiery red, “What are you wanting?”

It was a question laced with numerous implications; it signaled to Oikawa that Hinata knew where this encounter could lead, that he understood the possibilities, but also…that he wasn’t backing away from them. _This isn’t the Hinata from all those years ago,_ the realization hit Oikawa cold.

“I,” Oikawa hesitated, “I don’t know.” He finally admitted. He really didn’t. _Did he want to sleep with Hinata? Was this all because he was jealous of Iwaizumi with someone else? Was he taking advantage of the situation?_

“I don’t…I don’t want an attachment,” Oikawa continued, his fingers tracing circles on the outside of the red-head’s thigh. “I just…this is nice. Just this.” It was true. _How long had it been since he’d held someone in his embrace, intimately?_

“Oh,” Hinata’s face, still rosy from the sake, looked almost relieved. Oikawa didn’t know whether he should feel happy or insulted from that look. “That’s fine, I get it.” Hinata’s face seemed knowing; the brunette realized Hinata probably had been experiencing that exact same feeling of withdrawal. He looked towards the window of the hotel room, and then back towards Oikawa, as if mustering some form of courage. “Still…what are you wanting to do?”

Oikawa leaned his head back on the headboard of the bed and sighed. His mind raced for a moment, then as if a light switch had flickered, he glanced down at the red head with a smirk. “I definitely want you to stay tonight,” He smiled mischievously, “This sake isn’t out of my system yet, either, so…” He ran his hand up Hinata’s side, savoring the goosebumps he felt on Hinata’s arm as he slid his hand to the middle blocker’s shoulder, “…would you be opposed to a little kiss and cuddle, Chibi-Chan?”

Hinata snickered, his face contorting slightly, “That sounds so cheesy!”

Oikawa’s smile flashed devilishly, not being deterred, “Oh? Were you wanting to do _more_?”

Hinata flinched and gulped, “No, no!” He shifted so he was closer to Oikawa, “Kiss and cuddle sounds fine to me!” His gaze flickered, a trace of doubt passing over his face, “It’s been awhile, though…”

Oikawa let out a light laugh, pulling Hinata in closer, “Don’t worry,” their faces close enough to almost bump noses, “It’s the same for me.”

The gap between them closed, Oikawa leaning forward and taking Hinata’s mouth into his. It was strange, kissing someone for the first time, especially after years of withdrawal. Hinata’s lips were slightly chaffed, but soft. Hinata’s kisses were much like himself: short, tenacious, warm; with a hinted, noticeable intensity. Oikawa couldn’t help but wonder in the back of his mind if Iwaizumi’s were true to himself as well. _Stop_ , the setter warned himself, lest he get more emboldened than intended.

Hinata wrapped his arms around Oikawa’s lower torso, as Oikawa held one arm at Hinata’s waist, and another bent under the red head’s arm to grasp his shoulder. The two locked lips in a heated exchange; both clearly satisfying a mutual, long-clenched hunger. Oikawa wondered if Hinata had been pining for someone else, too.

“Not bad,” Oikawa smirked and pulled away from Hinata long enough to glance down at him with half-lidded eyes, raising Hinata’s chin to meet him in a slower kiss. Hinata smiled through it, which made the brunette pause and re-open his eyes curiously. “What?”

“You kiss like you play,” Hinata smiled simply.

“And what does _that_ mean?” Oikawa’s scoff was more of a playful huff. While seeming dismissive, Hinata knew it was a bluff.

The orange-haired man let out a chuckle, “You act like you haven’t kissed anyone in forever, but then you’re also a master at it.”

Oikawa laughed at this, his face pink with blush, “You flatter me, Chibi-Chan!” His eyes glinted dangerously, “Am I the best kisser you’ve ever had?”

“ _Ermm_ ,” Hinata’s face flushed, and he looked away embarrassed, “Wel—”

“I’m just teasing,” Oikawa angled Hinata’s face back towards him with a finger. He planted a chaste kiss on Hinata’s lips and leaned backwards. “It’s late, you know.”

The red head glanced at the clock, “It’s already three am!” He squeaked.

Oikawa yawned, stretching his arms over his head, “It is, it is – here,” he motioned for Hinata lay beside him. Hinata re-positioned himself, the two facing each other side-by-side now.

“I wish I’d brought pajamas,” Hinata mused, and Oikawa’s face broke into a fiendish smile,

“We could always strip down?” He asked playfully, but Hinata shook his head immediately, which made Oikawa laugh even harder. “No?”

“I’ll be fine in my clothes for one night,” Hinata’s cheeks were pink, searching Oikawa’s face for affirmation.

Oikawa nodded; it was probably for the best, anyway. _They both were sober by this point, but had they been nude against one another…Ah, well_ , Oikawa sighed.

He snuggled in closer to Hinata; he was tall enough that Hinata’s head met his chest. The red head turned so Oikawa was against his back and the setter wrapped an arm lazily around Hinata’s side.

“I’m glad we got to share this time together, Chibi-Chan,” Oikawa murmured, his head sinking into the pillow. “I’ve missed… _this_.”

Hinata was silent for a moment, but Oikawa knew he was likely thinking the same thing. He hoped the feeling had been mutual. The orange haired middle blocker finally replied, “Me too.”

The sunlight shone strong through their hotel window. Despite having gone to sleep at three, the pair was up by eight. Oikawa made good on his word and paid for Hinata’s cab, the two agreeing to meet for brunch before the brunette had to leave for his flight back to Argentina.

Refreshed and packed up, Oikawa met Hinata one last time at a café downtown. The two watched a volleyball match on the television in the restaurant, while Oikawa showed Hinata the various replies garnered from their selfie earlier that week.

“Iwa-Chan couldn’t think of a comeback for a whole day!” Oikawa puffed his chest triumphantly.

Hinata smiled as he took a bite from his omelet, “You and Iwaizumi still talk to each other a lot, right? You kept mentioning him at dinner last night.”

Oikawa blinked; he had not remembered that. “Yeah, we do,” he glanced down at his plate.

“Have you visited him in California?” Hinata asked with a mouthful.

“Nah, it’s a twelve-hour flight,” Oikawa forked a piece of pepper from his dish, “scheduling’s always been an issue, with him in college and me playing and everything.”

Hinata nodded, “Well, you said he’ll be graduating soon, right? Maybe he’ll be able to, then!”

Oikawa glanced up at the literal ray of sunshine sitting across from him. Hinata was beaming at him, and there was a sense of understanding in his smile that made Oikawa wonder if last night the red head had been aware that the brunette’s kisses were masking an underlying want of something else. Someone else.

“Yeah, sure,” Oikawa found his voice, “That would be nice.” 

As Oikawa headed toward the airport, he turned back around to bid Hinata a final farewell. “Well, then, take care of yourself Chibi—” he paused. The events of the past week unfolded in an instant, reminding him for one last time how times had changed, for them both, truly. “—no,” he held out his hand, “ _Shoyo_.”

Hinata’s eyes twinkled, and the two enthusiastically exchanged parting words. As Oikawa marched away, toting his luggage behind him, the words he uttered to Hinata lingered in the air,

_“I’m going to beat everyone. Be ready.”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is probably the longest chapter in the story, but there was SO much to tell!  
> I love a little OiHina like the next guy, but it's all innocent, I swear. ^_^
> 
> We all know IwaOi is endgame, right?
> 
> Next chapter: Iwaizumi graduates, Oikawa has ideas, but things aren't quite going to go as planned.


	3. Snaps of Shade

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Snippets of the next few years of Iwaizumi and Oikawa's friendship.  
> And how it's tested. 
> 
> Based on Chapters 386 and 395, for reference.

It was May 2018, and Iwaizumi tried to adjust the graduation cap on his head, but damn it if his spiky hair was not made for hats.

“Need some help there, Iwaizumi?” A few of the Irvine Polar Bears’ players, who were also graduating that evening, laughed loudly beside him as the cap slipped promptly off his head.

 _Where’s Oikawa when I need him?_ Iwaizumi groaned internally, _that idiot would probably have a bobby pin or something to keep this damn hat in place._

While he was trying to put the cap back on, he felt a buzz in his pants pocket. He pulled it out and glanced at the screen, _Speak of the devil_. “Hey, I’ll be right back!” The volleyball players nodded, still chuckling, and waving him off as he speed-walked out of the line.

“Oi, crappykawa,” Iwaizumi scrolled his phone open; it was a video chat, and Oikawa’s face filled the screen. “Do you mind? I’m trying to graduate, here.”

The setter laughed, “Oh, Iwa-chan! You know I wouldn’t miss your graduation for the world!”

Despite his best efforts, Iwaizumi let his guard down and felt a blush creep across his face. He hoped Oikawa would not notice, “Whatever, crappykawa.”

“Oh?” The setter’s head tilted, fluffy brown hair spilling out of frame, “But where’s your graduation cap, Iwa-chan?”

The former tried to position the cap atop his spiky hair, showing Oikawa how the cap wouldn’t stay on. Amidst Oikawa’s derisive laughter, Iwaizumi grumbled, “See? If you were here, you’d probably have a whole case of junk to keep this on my head.”

“What’s _that_ supposed to mean?” Oikawa suddenly stopped laughing to scoff at him.

“That time you gave Kyotani bleach for his hair?” Iwaizumi raised an eyebrow, staring down Oikawa.

Oikawa raised an eyebrow right back, “Uhm, that was my _sister’s_ and Mad Dog loved it, thank you very much--.”

“That time you used bobby pins to tie up Kunimi’s hair?”

“ _Again_ ,” Oikawa shrugged with a huff, “My sister had some lying around the bathroom and Kuni-Kun wasn’t able to fit in a haircut that week. I did him a favor--”

“That time you plucked Makki’s eyebrows on the bus ride to– “

“ _Who doesn’t carry tweezers on them_?!” Oikawa pouted, his cheeks puffing with a huff.

“Point is, you would have something that could help me,” Iwaizumi’s expression softened, his voice lowering as he stared at the video screen, “I wish you were here.”

Oikawa’s face turned a bright pink, or at least that is what Iwaizumi thought he saw on the video. It was night in Argentina, and Oikawa’s face was illuminated by the lights of the city off his balcony.

“Iwa-chan!” Oikawa’s eyes were starry. There was a moment’s silence between them.

“Anyway, I have to go,” Iwaizumi glanced away from his phone, looking at the cap sitting on his head in the bathroom mirror. “They’re about to start the ceremony.”

Oikawa smiled, exhaling, “Just hold onto the hat until you’re about to walk up, and then put it on. Surely, it’ll stay on your head that long.”

Iwaizumi nodded, “Yeah, I’ll try that.”

“I’m going to watch your graduation online, Iwa-chan! You won’t hear me, but I’ll be waving my arms above my head and screaming your name!” Oikawa was not certain, but he almost thought Iwaizumi’s cheeks stained pink at that statement.

“Erhm, thanks,” Iwaizumi mumbled, quickly adding, “Trashykawa. See ya.”

Oikawa wasn’t deterred, arms flailing for the camera, “Congratulations, Iwa-chan! Talk to you after the ceremony!”

* * *

“Utsui?” Oikawa’s head tilted, phone buried in the crook of his neck as he exited the balcony and went back inside his apartment. They’d been on the phone nearly an hour now. “Isn’t that Ushiwaka’s dad?”

“Yeah,” Iwaizumi had hung up his graduation gown, back in his apartment. “He’s a personal trainer for the volleyball team here at USC. I’ve asked him if I can intern with him this coming year.”

“Is he as obnoxious as Ushiwaka-chan?” Oikawa sneered into the phone. Iwaizumi sighed, not surprised that Oikawa was suddenly defensive.

“Still stuck in high school? You just can’t let anything go, can you, crappykawa?” Iwaizumi stood in his apartment living room, staring out the window. “No, he’s actually an amazing personal trainer and really nice to work with. I met him my sophomore year and told him I wanted to intern with him and the Irvine team after I graduated. Remember that selfie I sent you?”

“The infamous one Makki and Mattsun won’t let me ever live down?” Oikawa feigned innocently. “Why, I’d forgotten all about it, Iwa-Chan!”

“Whatever, you got us all back, so what does it matter?” Iwaizumi remembered the week-long insanity that was the group chat after Oikawa’s selfie of him and Shoyo Hinata was sent.

“True, true,” Oikawa had opened his refrigerator and pulled out a chilled bottle of wine. “So, when do you start this internship?”

There was a moment’s silence and then Iwaizumi finally answered, “Well, that’s the thing…”

The cork popped from the wine bottle, interrupting the silence between the two on the phone. Oikawa quietly poured half a glass, waiting for Iwaizumi to respond.

“…Utsui wants me to come with him on a trip to Italy next month to visit a friend of his there. He says the man’s an expert physical trainer and I should meet him. We’re going to do a two-week trip and watch him work with the V-League team there.”

Iwaizumi tried to sound enthusiastic and aloof, but he could sense the pregnant pause hinting at a darker emotion pooling on the other end of the receiver. He let out a slow exhale when Oikawa finally responded.

“Next month you were supposed to come to Argentina, though.”

The line was spoken slowly, deliberately; softly. His tone smacked Iwaizumi harder than any volleyball ever had across his face. It was a line of pure ice laced with betrayal.

“I…I know,” Iwaizumi finally replied. “I told him that I had planned to fly to Argentina then, but he said that this was the only time the trainer could fit us in with the team.” His voice was pained as he added, “I am really sorry, Oikawa.”

There was another pause, in which Iwaizumi could not see Oikawa downing the half-glass of wine in a gulp. The setter chirped back, wiping his mouth, “No, Iwa-chan! I’m being selfish! This is a great opportunity for you – I’m just disappointed because I wanted to finally show my teammates that I actually kept a friend from my high school team! They don’t believe me, Iwa-Chan!”

 _Dammit Oikawa_ , Iwaizumi never trusted Oikawa’s ‘cheerful’ voice, especially on the phone. “You have every right to be pissed at me, I know.” Iwaizumi acknowledged, “I can reschedule the trip to Argentina, though! I’ll set it to when you all are doing a home game and I can come watch!”

Oikawa was still peeved at this latest revelation, but his best friend’s offer was tantalizing, “You mean it, Iwa-chan?” He tried to still sound angry, but his moniker to Seijoh’s former ace removed any doubt of Oikawa’s hope.

“Of course,” Iwaizumi didn’t hesitate to answer, “I owe you at least that much.”

It was true; every time over the last three years that Iwaizumi had tried to arrange a trip to see Oikawa in Argentina, something had come up. Flights were delayed too long, schedules and holidays didn’t align; with Oikawa’s schedule, even arranging trips back to Japan at the same time were few and far between.

Oikawa, face flushed from drinking the wine too fast, burst, “Then it’s settled, Iwa-Chan! You’re coming to Argentina to see me play!”

Iwaizumi smiled, relieved, “I’ll be looking forward to it.”

They carried on the conversation for another half-hour, before the two finally agreed to retire for the evening. Iwaizumi held the phone in his hand, long after hanging up. There was something in the air that unsettled him, despite how reassuring his best friend had been that everything was okay. On the other end of the line, Oikawa poured himself another half glass of wine, and downed it in one breath.

* * *

“Oikawa,” One of the main wing spikers for Argentina gave the setter a concerned glance, “Que pasa?”

The setter wiped sweat from his brow; it was Saturday, which was serving drill day – he was on his third round of serves, each round amping up the intensity. He usually switched off and on between spike and float serves, but today, he was feeling all in on jumping and spiking the ball to the other side of the court, thrilling at the sound of the ball smack his teammates and fly off court.

“Nada está mal,” Oikawa replied in his best Spanish, “solo tengo ganas de servir.” He felt like serving today, and he was not messing around.

The wing spiker looked unconvinced, his brow still furrowed, “No lo hagas más.” He warned, glancing Oikawa up and down.

The setter frowned, a silent reply that he _got it._ He rose to serve again, ignoring the throbbing in his right knee. _I’m fine_ , the setter’s resilience pulled through, and he jumped to serve again.

* * *

Italy was nothing like Japan or California, but something about the cobblestone, the winding streets, and the chatter around him made Iwaizumi feel like he was somewhere familiar. He couldn’t place the emotion, but he was in awe, and Utsui chuckled at his starry-eyed tourist face as they made their way to the gymnasium where the team played.

Inside, they met Utsui’s friend, made introductions with the team, and laid out the rest of their stay there over the course of an hour and over an Italian lunch.

Iwaizumi had some time to sight-see, so he took off into the streets to gaze around. There was a marina nearby, and it was a breezy, balmy summer day, so he decided it would be perfect to see the Po River up close. He was near the water’s edge when he heard a voice in Japanese call out.   
  
“Woah! It’s Iwaizumi, right?!”

Iwaizumi spun around, not seeing anything at first, only to tool his gaze downward to a headful of spiky dark hair, save for a few streaks of blonde in the front.

_It was Karasuno’s libero._

“Oh! Uhm, Ni—Ni—” Iwaizumi hated that he was having the worst time remembering his name. The former libero laughed loudly.

“You almost had it!” He cackled, “It’s Yuu Nishinoya.” He held out his hand, which Iwaizumi immediately shook to diffuse the awkwardness.

“Thank you, Nishinoya,” Iwaizumi offered his hand sheepishly.

The two agreed to lunch and spent the entire time reminiscing about their high school days. Iwaizumi, when asked who he’d kept in contact, proudly showed Nishinoya the selfie with Ushijima from years back, which earned simultaneous sparkling eyes and exuberant laughter when Iwaizumi told the story about sending it to all of Seijoh.

“I can’t believe how much things have changed,” Nishinoya mused, as they finished lunch. “Yet, some people never change, do they?” He chuckled.

Iwaizumi nodded, _Oh, he knew that all too well,_ and his thoughts immediately drifted to the conversation with Oikawa a few weeks back. He wondered how he was doing; having not been able to contact him since they touched down in Italy.

“Do you have to be anywhere at the moment?” Nishinoya broke the silence, stretching his arms over his head.

Iwaizumi shook his head, “No, the coaches were meeting today to line out the agenda for our stay. Today, I just had down to sight-see.”

“Awesome! Want to come to marina? I was going to cast out and do some fishing this afternoon – I don’t know if you’d be up for it?” Nishinoya’s eyes were gleaming.

“Fishing?” Iwaizumi cocked his head.

“Marlins!” The former libero smiled broadly, “I’ve been helping some friends with tours; I’ve got one set for this afternoon, but we’ll come back to dock tonight, no worries.”

Iwaizumi had never considered marlin fishing before, but it did sound intriguing, “I wouldn’t want to be in the way –”

“Not at all, man!” Nishinoya slapped him on the back. “All I have to do is get them set up for the fishing part, and then the Captain and crew take care of the rest. We could hang out a little bit longer!”

That was all Iwaizumi needed to hear. “Sure, I’m in.”

* * *

“ _Marlins_?” Oikawa’s voice was the most skeptical Iwaizumi had heard in years. “Wait, _what_ did you say you did, Iwa-chan?”

“Went fishing for marlins with Yuu Nishinoya,” the former ace repeated, rolling his eyes, “As I just told you three times. Can you believe Karasuno’s former libero is here in Italy?”

Oikawa’s answer echoed in his reply, “No, I honestly can’t.” Not to be thrown off-kilter, though, he smirked and added, “Were you hoping to see a Kaiju in the water, Iwa-chan?”

“Shut up,” Iwaizumi spat back, “You’re just jealous, crappykawa.”

Oikawa hummed on the other end of the line, “Hmm, you got me there, Iwa-chan. Being stuck on a smelly boat with that bouncy, bleach-tipped libero sounds _real_ appealing right now.”

“He’s actually changed since high school,” Iwaizumi countered, “Or maybe he hasn’t, but he wasn’t annoying.” It was true; the shorter man and Iwaizumi had shared a great afternoon on the boat, soaking in the Italian sun as Iwaizumi learned how to reel in a marlin and Nishinoya was taught a few new stretches for his post-workouts. “He was actually really cool.”

“Well, I’m glad you had fun,” Oikawa replied, and there was a hint of jealousy that was so easy to note in his voice that it made Iwaizumi scoff out loud. “What?”

“Are you jealous I hung out with someone other than you for an afternoon?” Iwaizumi accused.

Oikawa let out a huff, “Not at all!”

“Because I distinctly remember you taking a selfie with a _certain_ tangerine-haired former Karasuno player.” Iwaizumi challenged, “actually, didn’t you spend a week hanging out with him?”

Oikawa blanched, happy they were not on video chat. He had told all Seijoh about him and Hinata’s selfie and week-long volleyball training in Rio; _hell, he was pretty sure everyone on the volleyball circuit knew about it._

But he had never shared details about the last night in Rio, where he and Hinata had hooked up in Oikawa’s hotel room. Not to his own team, and _especially_ not to Iwaizumi and the rest of Seijoh.

“That was to get back at you and Ushijima’s selfie,” Oikawa covered, pouting.

“Whatever,” Iwaizumi replied, “Go find Kageyama and do a television commercial with him.”

“Eww, Iwa-chan!” Oikawa made a wretched, gagging noise, “Kageyama is not cool, and I would rather spend an afternoon on a yacht covered in fish guts than five minutes with that self-proclaimed prodigy!”

Iwaizumi sighed; some people indeed, never changed. “You really are a shit person, you know that, trashykawa?”

Oikawa fell silent on the other end. The incident with Hinata had not been on his mind in years, but with Karasuno back in the conversation, it was starting to consume his thoughts _. You have no idea_. “Watch the language, Iwa-chan!” He countered, trying to sound intentionally whiny, “You’re hurting my delicate ears with such filth!”

* * *

For two weeks, Iwaizumi shadowed Utsui and his friend, who was the personal trainer for the largest Italian V-League team in the country. Utsui would translate anything Iwaizumi didn’t understand, being fluent enough in Italian, and there was a player on the team actually from Japan in his late twenties, who was helpful in translating too.

It was exciting for the former ace, getting a fresh perspective and also being able to see a pro-league team practice. Everything was dialed up from his high school experience to an eleven, and it elated him…and terrified him.

Because he watched them practice, saw the constant drills, up and down the court and on and off the floor and the only thing he could think those several days was: _Is Oikawa doing this same level of practice day after day? Was Argentina’s personal trainer as good as Italy’s? Did they know how Oikawa stayed after practice for hours on end, just to squeak in a few more serve drills or spikes?_

He felt his stomach tangle as a player slipped on the sweaty floor; his knee hitting with a sharp crack, as Utsui’s friend abruptly ended his conversation to go tend to him.

“Something bothering you, Iwaizumi?” Utsui had clearly noticed the grimace on the former ace’s face, tilting his head to give him an empathetic look.

Iwaizumi cleared his throat, “I told you that I wanted to intern with you when we first met. Do you remember?”

The trainer chuckled, “Yes, that when Wakatoshi came to visit me in Irvine. I won’t ever forget that visit,” he added softly. Iwaizumi smiled, nodding,

“Yeah, well, I was inspired in high school reading your book on injuries and prevention.”

“Ah,” Utsui nodded, “That book was very personal to me. I wrote it when Wakatoshi was a child.” He smiled inwardly, “I had just watched his first elementary school game. I realized at that time that my son was going to keep playing volleyball. He hadn’t had an injury yet,” The trainer involuntarily massaged his right elbow, as if trying to heal an old wound. Iwaizumi glanced at the gesture as he continued, “but I knew someday it was possible…and I didn’t want him to go through what I had. I didn’t want it to ruin his chance at a career doing something he ended up loving.” He sighed, “I was reckless in my youth.”

 _Sounds familiar,_ Iwaizumi’s gaze fixed back on Utsui, “Yeah, I decided to get into sports medicine for the same reason.”

“You told me that years ago,” Utsui’s head tilted, “But you never had any serious injuries, correct?”

“Eh,” Iwaizumi confessed, “I didn’t want to join because of my own injuries. I, uhm, had a friend that I grew up with…he sounds like you when you were younger…always practicing extra hard, trying to make himself do impossible things.”

Utsui laughed, “He sounds more ambitious than I ever was.”

“He just overdoes _everything_ ,” Iwaizumi’s voice started to fume, “He doesn’t know his own limits, setting intervals, anything like that! He just –”

“Keeps going until something breaks?” Utsui offered.

_Hit it until it breaks._

_Oikawa’s phrase of choice._ Iwaizumi frowned, nodding silently.

Utsui hummed in understanding, “And you want to become a personal trainer to help him?”

“Him, yes,” Iwaizumi admitted, sighing, “But if I can’t specifically help him and his team, then any team. Any team that would have me would work…I just don’t want to have to see players do that to themselves again.” He leaned against the balcony guard rail, as the two overlooked the team playing below. Utsui’s friend was on the bench with the player that had fell, massaging his knee. The player bore an expression Iwaizumi had seen a hundred times before.

“It’s a good reason to be in the profession,” Utsui nodded, smiling. “I would be lying if I said the reason I went into this field wasn’t because someone I cared deeply for was involved in the sport and I wanted to protect them.” His gaze shifted to Iwaizumi, a sense of knowing etched into every wrinkle on his middle-aged face.

The former ace turned his head away to prevent his mentor from seeing the slight blush spreading across his face.

* * *

It was Iwaizumi’s last night in Italy before they left to return to the United States. As luck would have it, Nishinoya’s fishing excursion across the Mediterranean he had planned was delayed, meaning he could spend the evening with Iwaizumi before he left.

The two grabbed dinner at a restaurant near the marina and then ventured to a small bar nearby to round out the evening.

“Are you planning on going back to Japan anytime soon?” Nishinoya finally asked, pouring sake for the two of them.

“After my internship is over, I’m going to try and head back to apply to a be a personal trainer for a team there.” Iwaizumi thanked him for the sake and took a drink.

“Nice!” Nishinoya followed suit, “I heard there’s a lot of Seijoh guys from back when we played in the pro leagues now!”

“There are,” Iwaizumi nodded, “and Oikawa’s over in Argentina playing still. I’m actually traveling in a few weeks to see one of his games down there.”

“Oho,” Nishinoya grinned broadly, “Getting some extra vacation time in, I see?”

“I wasn’t expecting this to be a total vacation,” Iwaizumi smiled, “But I’m glad it kind of turned out to be. And it was nice getting to see a pro league play in another country and getting to hang out with a familiar face.”

“Ha, I bet! I’ve seen the team play here a few times and they’re incredible!” Nishinoya’s smile turned playful, “just don’t get any crazy ideas like Oikawa with me!”

Iwaizumi paused mid-sip, his brow furrowing, “What are you talking about?”

“You don’t know?” Nishinoya frowned, a sudden look of concern mixed with guilt spreading across his face. He took a quick drink of his sake. “I figured Oikawa had told all of Seijoh!”

“Tell us what?” Iwaizumi demanded, and then, seeing Nishinoya look like he wanted to avoid the subject, added, “You can’t just back out from telling me, now!”

“Well,” Nishinoya’s cheeks flushed, “I guess don’t repeat this – I honestly only heard from Yamaguchi – but,” He smiled mischievously, “Hinata totally made out with Oikawa when he was visiting in Rio!”

Iwaizumi froze. Every part of his brain seemed to short-circuit in that moment and cease to function. It took him a second to collect himself and ask Nishinoya to repeat himself.

The former libero laughed, “Yeah, I guess a couple years back Oikawa visited Rio and ran into Hinata. The two spent the week playing beach volleyball together. Yamaguchi picked Hinata up from the airport back in March when he went to try out for the Black Jackals and Hinata told him about it.”

“That he and Oikawa…” Iwaizumi stared down at his drink, dumb founded.

Nishinoya seemed to mistake his confusion for disbelief, “Snogged like a bunch of middle-schoolers!” He laughed, “Something about having too much sake, which is why,” He motioned to his cup, “I was reminded when you got us a bottle. Didn’t want you to get the wrong idea!” He playfully punched Iwaizumi’s shoulder, who played it off with a short laugh.

“Oh, yeah, right!” He forced a smile, but curiosity had overwhelmed him now. “So…was that all they did?”

“Yeah,” Nishinoya poured another glass, “What’d Hinata say Oikawa called it? ‘Cuddle and kiss?’” He snorted at the title, “Total cheese, man!”

_That definitely sounds like something stupid Oikawa would come up with._

Despite the ridiculousness of the title and Nishinoya playing it off with such amusement, Iwaizumi still felt his heart drop like a stone.

“But yeah, nothing else,” Nishinoya mused, “At least, that’s all Hinata had to say and that was a few months ago. I’m just amazed you all didn’t know!”

Iwaizumi was too. _Why would Oikawa hide this?_ “Yeah…I guess Oikawa was just trying to not tell, in case Hinata wasn’t comfortable with it.” _He was SO giving Oikawa more credit than he deserved in this moment. That bastard owed him an explanation…and NOW._

“Hm, maybe,” Nishinoya nodded, “Hinata only told Yamaguchi, and Yamaguchi I think only told me because I wouldn’t run into any of the Karasuno guys to blab anytime soon. I really only text Asahi, and I doubt he’d care to know his kouhai’s romantic exploits,” He took another drink. “Sorry to say, though, Iwaizumi…I’m in no mood to ‘Kiss and Cuddle’ with you before you leave Italy.”

The former ace gave a chuckle, pouring another glass, “Thanks. The feeling’s mutual.”

The two finished their sake bottle and carried on their conversation into the night, only at about two am leaving to part ways with a firm handshake, Nishinoya saluting him as he turned to walk away.

While he had made every effort to drive the thoughts from his mind the rest of the evening, on his way home, Iwaizumi found himself consumed with one repetitive thought:

_In Argentina, Oikawa had some explaining to do._

* * *

**AUTHOR'S NOTE:**

The last chapter is soon. Get ready.

I know Iwaizumi and Oikawa aren't. 

Thanks so much for reading and I hope you've liked this so far! 


	4. From Argentina With Love

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is literally as long as the last three put together.  
> I'm not sorry, though. 
> 
> It's Argentina, summer 2018, and it's Oikawa and Iwaizumi.   
> I hope you like it!

Iwaizumi’s plane had been delayed by four hours.

Instead of getting into Argentina with enough time to watch them warm up, he was going to miss practice before their game tonight and if he was lucky, end up arriving before the end of the first set. He cursed under his breath most of the flight to Argentina, when he was not sleeping, that is. It was twelve hours, and time changes included Iwaizumi knew his body was going to be jet-lagged once he arrived.

The entire bus ride towards the gymnasium, Iwaizumi stared at his phone, which had been eerily silent for most of the trip. He had texted Oikawa when he left that he was going to try and sleep most of the way there, so he was not too fatigued. Aside from Oikawa’s cringe-worthy _Don’t let the beg bugs bite, Iwa-Chan!_ There had not been much texting from the setter. This would normally alarm Iwaizumi, but it was likely just because it was right before a match and Oikawa wasn’t letting himself get distracted.

Oikawa had originally wanted Iwaizumi to come a few days before the match, but the former ace rejected the offer. Iwaizumi planned on confronting Oikawa about his “adventures” in Rio, and knowing them, there would probably be an argument and the last thing he wanted to do was get Oikawa in a bad row before a match. As the trip grew closer, though, Iwaizumi started to have doubts.

 _Maybe I should go a few days earlier so we can at least catch up_ , he thought over coffee a week prior to his trip, _then after the match I can ask him about his stupid fling…_ He was still in partial denial over it, hardly believing the gossip Nishinoya had told him back in Italy.

However, when he called Oikawa later that day, the setter told him that he might as well just show up as planned – they’d have days together after the match, so there was no reason to rush his schedule. Now, hours late, and likely to miss a third of his best friend’s match, Iwaizumi was kicking himself that he did not just follow his gut and leave a few days earlier like he had planned.

Iwaizumi, unlike his best friend, was not a high maintenance traveler, and was able to fit all the clothes he needed into a neat duffel bag. He figured he would just carry it into the gymnasium and hang onto it until after the game. Oikawa was letting him stay at his apartment for free, after all.

After a security search through the bag and stopping to get some food from the vendor outside the gym, Iwaizumi hustled into the stadium to find a seat on Argentina’s side. He looked up at the scoreboard and he sighed with relief; it was still the first set and Argentina were winning, barely, against the Dominican Republic – 25 to 24 – with it being set point.

Finding a seat in the back, Iwaizumi settled in, duffel bag shuffled under his seat, and looked out onto the court. _Where was Oikawa?_ He did not think it would be hard to pick him out of the crowd…but for some reason, he could not spot him. _Wasn’t he #17?_ He eyed every player on the court, none of them looking like Oikawa –

And then, Iwaizumi spotted his best friend.

On the bench.

Iwaizumi felt his breath catch; _there was no way Oikawa would be benched during a game…unless…_

And then he saw it. Oikawa’s right knee was in a compression wrap; it was black instead of white, but the purpose was the same. The setter was hunched forward, a small pack of ice set on top of the wrapped knee. He was nibbling on his thumb and staring at the court as if trying to merge with it.

A whistle and loud cheering from Argentina’s side snapped Iwaizumi out of the moment to stare at the scoreboard. The score read 26-24; Argentina had won the set. The crowd was flailing wildly, but Iwaizumi simply sat in shock, staring down at his best friend on the bench, who looked more indifferent than anything. It was that indifference that terrified Iwaizumi in that moment because the words “indifference” and “volleyball” would never be anywhere near one another if the Oikawa he knew could help it. Oikawa was the definition of misery on that bench.

Eventually, Iwaizumi managed to eat his food as the rest of the game ended quite quickly. Argentina managed to dominate the rest of the game, shutting out the Dominican Republic back-to-back in sets two and three, winning both 25-15. The Argentinean crowd’s roar was deafening. But Iwaizumi was not cheering; his gaze was homed in on Oikawa, who at the conclusion of the third set, rose slowly from the bench and followed his team down to the locker room. He saw the libero and one of the middle blockers patting Oikawa on the shoulder, talking to him about something. Iwaizumi could sense they were comforting him, but he did not look that affected.

During the entire game, Oikawa’s gaze had not left the court or the players. He had not once looked up into the stands towards Iwaizumi. And now, Iwaizumi realized why Oikawa had not wanted him to come to Argentina days early to see him at practice. He was amazed that the setter had even allowed him to fly here at all.

Iwaizumi gathered his duffel bag and made his way to the gym entrance. He had texted Oikawa that he was there and that he was going to wait on him. Oikawa had not texted back, but at this point, the former ace did not expect him to.

Finally, the Argentinean team filtered out of the locker room one-by-one. Oikawa and the libero were walking out together; _They must be friends_ , Iwaizumi mused, noticing how much communication they had. When they got close enough, Iwaizumi caught Oikawa’s gaze. The former ace froze, as he saw Oikawa’s face absolutely crumble when their eyes met. Iwaizumi, terrified that his best friend was going to break down then and there in front of his team, tried to salvage the situation.

“Oi!” Iwaizumi yelled out, waving, “Oikawa told me that Argentina had a pretty cool libero!” This was not entirely true; Oikawa had hardly mentioned the libero on team, but at this point, Iwaizumi just wanted to keep his best friend afloat to make it out of the gymnasium.

The libero, surprised by this outburst, quickly laughed and punched Oikawa on the shoulder, asking him if that were true. Oikawa surely realized what his best friend was doing, because he forced a smile and shyly scratched the back of his head, “Uh, yeah! I might have told Iwa-Chan that! Uhm,” he turned and glanced from Iwaizumi to the libero, “this is Hajime Iwaizumi. He just graduated from USC in the United States and is interning to become a physical trainer.”

The libero introduced himself and Iwaizumi quickly realized why Oikawa talked to him so much: despite being from Argentina, he spoke Japanese fluently. The libero laughed, admitting that most of the team thought that “Iwa-Chan” was Oikawa’s imaginary friend he made up. The former ace laughed hard at that, until he noticed Oikawa’s glare and forced himself to regain some composure.

The rest of the team had already dispersed, and the libero said he was going to catch up with them for dinner, inviting Iwaizumi and Oikawa to join. Oikawa thanked his teammate but said he had already made reservations elsewhere with his friend. The libero left and for a moment, Iwaizumi and Oikawa walked in silence, until Oikawa hailed a cab and the two started off towards their reservation.

The silence had not been awkward until they were in the cab and Oikawa had given directions to the restaurant. Then, the stillness surrounding them grew thick.

Oikawa’s eyes slowly drifted guiltily towards Iwaizumi, whose own eyes were glancing down at the setter’s knee. The setter could see in Iwaizumi’s eyes a myriad of emotions ranging from disappointment to anger to frustration to confusion. It alone was enough to make Oikawa settle back in his seat, exhaling slowly with dreaded anticipation of what was about to be said. He looked more in pain from his friend’s stare than his own knee.

“Iwa-chan, I know what you’re thinking,” Oikawa tried to ease in, but Iwaizumi cut him off,

“Why did you ask me to come?” Iwaizumi fumed softly. Oikawa winced, opening his eyes slowly to focus ahead of them, unable to meet his friend’s intense stare.

“I pulled it a few days ago,” Oikawa said simply, “It would have been too late for you to get refunded for your flight –”

“Bull,” Iwaizumi interrupted, “I talked to you a week ago on the phone and you were all weird about me coming a few days early.” He glanced Oikawa up and down angrily, “You may not have pulled your knee until a few days ago, but I bet it’s been giving you trouble for longer than that, hasn’t it?”

Oikawa sighed softly, “Reading me like a book, Iwa-chan,” his eyes floated slowly back to his friend’s, “Nothing has changed, has it?”

 _No, it hasn’t!_ Iwaizumi wanted to scream. He wanted to strangle Oikawa. He wanted to throttle him for how careless he was, to exhume his frustrations; that after all these years, _he should know better than to push himself to such extremes, with such disregard to his own wellbeing–_

The former ace’s thoughts were halted when he saw the tears welling up in Oikawa’s eyes.

And a wave of realization slammed him. How Iwaizumi’s frustration, how this moment; everything, must feel to his best friend.

For Oikawa to finally have Iwaizumi visit him after all of these years apart, to finally see him represent Seijoh and his country proudly on his home court amidst a nationally recognized team, the one he’d bragged about since moving there…only to not be able to play a single set because of his own worthless pride making the setter feel invincible, that he could keep going and going until he broke himself, the same as he’d done countless times before.

The setter’s lip trembled and there was a darkness, a staunch guilt blooming across Oikawa’s face. 

_Dammit, Oikawa._

Tears quietly streamed down Oikawa’s face and fell into his lap. Iwaizumi, feeling the anger dissipate within him, finally sighed, and reached for his best friend’s hand and quietly interlaced his fingers with the setter’s. Iwaizumi felt his heart thump in his chest. _What were they exactly?_ Best friends, yes, but for the first time in quite a while, Iwaizumi felt something else bubbling to the surface. Part of him wanted to smack Oikawa across the face for his stupidity, true, but another wanted to pull the setter closer, to wipe his face and ease his anxieties again; call him “shittykawa” and move forward together as they’d always done.

Deciding not to make a scene in front of the cab driver, Iwaizumi replied with a soft exhale,

“No, nothing has changed.”

* * *

Oikawa had wiped his face exiting the cab, Iwaizumi paid while he did this, and the pair settled into the local restaurant Oikawa had picked. It wasn’t exuberantly fancy, but the soothing, warm orange lights and casual ambiance of the place helped to smooth over Oikawa’s anxieties, as he sighed and wiped his eyes one more time before the waiter came and took their order.

“How long do you have to stay off it,” Iwaizumi broke the silence, sipping some of the wine from the bottle Oikawa had bought for them.

“Two weeks,” Oikawa grumbled, pouring himself a second glass.

“Looks like you all should fare okay, though,” Iwaizumi noted, “you stomped that team tonight.”

“Ha,” Oikawa scoffed dismissively, “The Dominican doesn’t have a good team this year; it wasn’t much of a feat to beat them.”

The former ace’s voice grew suspicious, “Is that so? So…you asked me to specifically come _this_ weekend, when you knew this about the team you were facing…because…?” his eyebrow raised as he stared down Oikawa.

The setter blushed as he finished pouring his glass, “Because _maybe_ I wanted to show off to you, and this was the perfect game for me to prove how great the team was with me setting.”

 _Show off to me?_ Iwaizumi lowered his head, shaking in disbelief as he let out a laugh. _This idiot_ , “Well,” He raised his glass in a small toast towards Oikawa, “In per usual Trashykawa-fashion, your plan failed spectacularly!”

The setter glared, his face scrunched sourly; Iwaizumi beamed, “Here, let me pour you another glass to wash down your shame, crappykawa,” the former ace gave a quick laugh as he reached for the wine bottle. Oikawa’s glare remained until the waiter sauntered up with their main course.

“You’re so mean, Iwa-Chan,” Oikawa pouted, sipping his wine as their food was set before them.

Iwaizumi did not respond for a while, savoring the dish in front of him; Oikawa failed at many attempts to be “cool,” but it was undeniable that he had done right in choosing this restaurant. After a bit, he hummed softly in approval, giving Oikawa a rare thumbs up from across the table. The setter blushed furiously, before raising his glass, trying to be suave.

“Well, I’m glad you like it, Iwa-Chan!” He smiled slyly, giving a wink to Iwaizumi as he took a drink.

“Guh, you’re ruining it,” Iwaizumi scoffed. But Oikawa saw a hint of pink spread across his face to know he was joking. A warmth settled in each of their chests; both trying to internally decide what to do with what they were feeling. For the moment, they merely returned to their meals, a soft silence between them, until Iwaizumi looked up at Oikawa, as if an idea just popped into his head.

“Since I’m hear the next couple days,” he mused, moving his food around on his plate, “I could show you some stretches and workouts to help your knee.”

Oikawa lifted his face and gazed at Iwaizumi in awe, “Could you?”

“Coach Utsui and I worked out a routine that I’ve been doing with some of the USC players,” the former ace nodded, “They’ve all said it was really helpful, if you wanted me to show you, too.”

In a rare moment, one Iwaizumi was already filing away mentally, Oikawa smiled. A genuine, meaningful smile with no ulterior motive. Iwaizumi felt his stomach do a flip. 

“I would _love_ that, Iwa-Chan!”

That moment seemed to lighten the mood; Iwaizumi was still _beyond_ frustrated that Oikawa had injured himself, but the prospect of Oikawa actually letting him help him get better gave the former ace a light-hearted sensation inside – as if everything he had been studying and working towards the last few years were finally being put to good use. _For someone I cared about,_ Coach Utsui’s words drifted past Iwaizumi’s thoughts, but the former ace decided to dismiss them for the moment. This was his best friend, after all. _Why wouldn’t I want to help him?_

The remainder of dinner, the two spent mapping out the rest of Iwaizumi’s stay; where they would go sight-seeing, restaurants Oikawa begged Iwaizumi to try, and where they could fit in stretches and some of Iwaizumi’s training. The setter had texted his coach during the dinner to see if he could skip practice the next two days.

“I told him you’re a physical trainer from the U.S. and that you’re giving me some one-on-one sessions to help with my knee the next few days,” Oikawa casually answered when Iwaizumi asked what he was texting his coach. The former ace nearly spit his wine across the table.

“What?!” Iwaizumi stared in disbelief at his friend, “Wha—you can’t— _shittykawa_!”

“Oh, come now,” Oikawa smiled devilishly, “I didn’t lie to my coach, necessarily. You _are_ a physical trainer, you _are_ giving me some one-on-one help with my knee,” he shrugged, “I would just be doing basic stretches at practice the next few days anyway, so it’s not that big of a deal.”

It was Iwaizumi’s turn to pout from across the table, gripping his long stem glass so hard, Oikawa thought for a second it would snap. “You made it sound official, though.” The former ace rebutted through gritted teeth, “like I was a professional that came down here just to work with you.”

“Well, you _are_ practically a professional,” Oikawa replied innocently, “And you did come down here _just_ to see me, didn’t you?” He batted his eyelashes and Iwaizumi considered chucking the empty glass at him.

“ _Shittykawa_ ….” Iwaizumi grumbled, before looking around the restaurant, “Where’s that waiter?”

“Hmm,” Oikawa tapped his chin, “I’m sure he’ll come back soon. Why?”

“If I’m going to deal with your antics the next three days,” Iwaizumi gave Oikawa a cold stare, but the setter could tell there was a tiny hint of playfulness under the surface, “I’m going to need another glass and a couple bottles of this wine to go.”

* * *

True to his word, Iwaizumi and Oikawa ended up buying a few bottles to go; the setter insisted it was the best local wine in Argentina, and the two took off towards Oikawa’s apartment, fortunately only a few blocks away.

Oikawa quietly cursed up half the stairs, particularly as he limped up the last flight, which Iwaizumi noticed and vocalized to the setter. “Don’t they have an elevator, here?”

“It’s been out of service for a while,” Oikawa lamented, finally reaching the landing to his apartment, and fumbling to get the key, “I’ll manage.” Iwaizumi looked less than convinced, but Oikawa did not let him stew on it. “Now, don’t judge me, Iwa-chan, with how I’ve decorated the place.”

The apartment opened to dark wooden flooring and a modest kitchen area, aside from the various magnets littering the refrigerator, an alien head drawing Iwaizumi’s attention. The living room was sparsely decorated, except several potted plants; there were old pipes for the water that ran across the ceiling, and a leafy vine snaked around its length. Iwaizumi could see the sliding glass door leading out to the balcony where Oikawa had talked to him many a night on the phone, white string lights glittering across the railing.

“Looks fine to me,” Iwaizumi shrugged, plopping his duffel bag onto the couch.

“Most of the team were freaked out by the vine when they came over,” Oikawa noted as he put some dishes away.

“Host a lot of parties here?” Back at Seijoh, Oikawa was more the type to show up to a party than ever host one; that was usually Makki and Mattsun’s responsibility.

“Oh, a few times,” Oikawa mused, wondering if Iwaizumi was just a smidgeon jealous, “I’m a bit out of the way for most of the team, though.” Oikawa moved to the living room to sit in the chair beside the couch Iwaizumi was going to sleep on.

The former Seijoh ace nodded and after getting settled in, the two continued catching up, conversing about USC’s team, Iwaizumi’s internship, and the Argentinean players on Oikawa’s team. Iwaizumi kept wondering to himself if he should shift the conversation to the scandalous rumors about him and Hinata, but between Oikawa’s ridiculous laughter and the way the conversation was flowing…it did not seem right.

Noticing it was nearing two am, Oikawa stretched his arms over his head. “It’s getting late, Iwa-chan! We have a lot planned for tomorrow; I can’t believe you’re not tired from your trip.”

“I slept most of the way here,” Iwaizumi admitted, stretching his legs out, nearly meeting Oikawa’s from across the living room. His eyes glanced from their feet up to Oikawa’s face, which was haloed by the white lights shining through the screen door. Iwaizumi let his eyes linger over his friend’s face. Nearly four years and despite their time apart, Oikawa had not changed. His hair was still fluffed and shifted to the side, his brown eyes focused, face still youthful. He somehow seemed more mature, though. _Maybe in his eyes? Maybe in the way he carried himself?_ Iwaizumi couldn’t be sure. They had not seen each other in person for nearly half a decade, but talking tonight, it seemed like they had never been apart.

“Something on your mind, Iwa-chan?” Oikawa offered quietly, noticing his friend had gone silent.

“It’s been so long since we’ve seen each other,” he replied, just as still, “Yet, it doesn’t feel like any time has passed at all.”

The setter offered a knowing smile, “I couldn’t agree more, Iwa-chan. I’m glad you finally came to visit.”

A yawn rose and escaped Iwaizumi, who realized perhaps he was a little tired from his trip. _The questions about Hinata could wait until tomorrow._ He shifted on the couch, offering with a lazy smile, “I am, too.” 

* * *

The next day was filled with sight-seeing; Oikawa bounced around like a magpie, showing Iwaizumi to all of the traditional tourist spots, insisted they hit up his favorite restaurants, and in between it all, Iwaizumi managed to sneak in time to show him part of the stretch routine he had been utilizing at USC. The entire time, the two bantered back and forth; Oikawa trying to show off his Spanish speaking skills, and Iwaizumi, though acting unimpressed, had to admit that Oikawa sounded _kind of_ cool as he casually spoke to the locals…not that he’d ever admit it to his friend, of course.

Iwaizumi supposed it was no surprise, but despite all their years half a world apart, their friendship had not waivered. Conversations were no different in person than on the phone; the only exception was Iwaizumi was feeling a constant, nagging _tug_ at his chest. Iwaizumi knew what the sensation meant, but admitting it… _especially to Oikawa of all people?_

It happened frequently throughout the day. During lunch, when Oikawa would toss his friend a flirty wink across the table and casually lay a hand across Iwaizumi’s wrist for a second. During stretches, as Iwaizumi helped Oikawa stretch his knee and the setter would lean on him for support instead of the wall opposite. In the square, where Oikawa would lean in extra close to whisper translations of Spanish into Iwaizumi’s ear. 

It was so practically deliberate, and yet so casual, Iwaizumi wondered if Oikawa realized what he was even doing. _Surely…_ he could not deny the want for proximity, to test the waters of contact and see if his best friend intended anything _more_ by all of this, but the nagging thought lingered in his mind, concerning Rio and the rumors Nishinoya had told him. He had to know particulars… if Oikawa was still involved with Hinata and why he had not told any of them about it. _Nishinoya did not frame it as a bad experience…so…. Why didn’t he want us to know?_

Their stroll through the streets of Argentina had led them far from Oikawa’s apartment. During the cab drive back from dinner, Oikawa cursed under his breath, holding his knee, and grumbling mostly to himself. This action was not unnoticed by Iwaizumi, who held his tongue, though, because he had planned to discuss Oikawa’s fling with Hinata tonight and he did not want to start in a full-fledged argument that would distract him from his objective.

* * *

Distraction, however, did come for Iwaizumi, just not in the form of Oikawa whining. The ultimate distraction of the evening, it turned out, were the two bottles of wine Iwaizumi had brought home from the restaurant the night before.

The previous night, Iwaizumi had drunk a few glasses of wine, but the setter had drained most of the bottle. A few glasses of wine were Iwaizumi’s limit, as he did not drink much and admittedly had a low tolerance. However, tonight, with the bottles distributed more evenly, with Iwaizumi, absent-minded, refilling his glass over and over as he tried to find the opportune moment to confront Oikawa. As the second bottle was nearly finished, Iwaizumi had almost forgotten about the red head and Rio. Almost.

“Trashykawwwwa,” Iwaizumi pointed accusingly at the setter, teetering slightly on the bar stool in the kitchen, stopping to steady himself. “You weren’t joking! This is the best damn wine in Argentina!”

Oikawa laughed out loud, “Why would I lie to you? My, my,” the setter leaned against the kitchen counter on the other side of Iwaizumi, his head resting lazily in his hand, “Iwa-chan, I believe you may be a bit tipsy.” His large brown eyes were as flirtatious as Iwaizumi had ever seen them. The former ace swayed in place, his eyes glancing over Oikawa. It was hard not to stare at his broadened shoulders; the dim lighting of the apartment casting a faint orange glow across the setter’s features. 

“Am not,” Iwaizumi denied, though there was no doubt he was struggling to stay focused, “I—I’m fine.” He placed both hands on the counter, his body now turned to directly face his friend. “Oikawa…this is all your fault, you know!”

Oikawa flicked a piece of his brunette hair out of his face, scoffing, “How? You insisted we get the wine!”

“You said it was the best,” Iwaizumi countered.

“And it clearly is,” Oikawa’s eyes glinted, smile lazy as he sipped from his glass. “This is the last of the wine, unfortunately. I have more, but it’s not nearly as good.”

A tiny voice in the back of Iwaizumi’s brain reminded him, _should you ask him?_ “I—you,” Iwaizumi stammered, trying to simultaneously control his tongue and stay on task, “how do you handle all of these female fans…when you clearly don’t like them?” _Coward_ , his brain noted quickly, _why_ _the hell did you ask that?!_

Oikawa snorted, “I would never turn a fan away,” He eyed his friend suspiciously, “But is it so wrong I’m not attracted to them?” He was pouring the last of the second bottle into his glass. “I had my fair share of that nonsense in high school. Why? Have someone you want to set me up with?” Oikawa laughed softly and played it off as a joke, but there was a shift in his demeanor that any sober person would have recognized.

Iwaizumi, of course, was not sober at this point.

“No, crappykawa,” _You’ve done it now, idiot. Now what are you going to do?_ “I just heard some rummmmors,” He stretched out the word rumor and Oikawa perked his head up at this. _Good. You have his attention._

“Rumors? What rumors?” Oikawa’s eyebrow raised high. Fan girls all over his social media accounts spread tons of false statements about him constantly; this was no surprise for Oikawa. But Iwaizumi had always told him he had no interest in _trashykawa’s social tin can,_ so he had assumed the former ace did not know about any of them. “If it’s that garbage about me and that middle blocker from France getting into a fight, I was only arguing with him because he told me my French was terrible when I introduced myself.”

“Your French is terrible, though,” Iwaizumi teased, as Oikawa shot him a glare, “But that’s not it…” _Now or never. Now or never. Just. Ask. Him._ “No, I mean…. You’ve been to Rio, right?”

Oikawa, halfway through his drink, choked and had to grab a paper towel to clean his mouth and the kitchen counter. _Where did this come from? Does…no. That’s not possible._

“Wha—what? I mean,” Oikawa tried to compose himself, “We go there for a training camp and tournaments all the time.” A slight prickle of panic had invaded his punch-drunk state.

Iwaizumi, currently waging war with the voice in his head, tilted his empty glass towards Oikawa with a slight smirk, something that signaled to Oikawa just how inebriated his friend was. “And to hook up with orange-haired volleyball players from what I hear.”

The former ace snapped his mouth shut, but it was too late. The words had slurred out just as easily as sipping wine. A tense silence hung in the air as the best friends, cheeks rosy and bodies slightly swaying, stared at each other; the kitchen counter between them.

 _He knows._ “What are you talking about, Iwa-chan?” Oikawa chuckled nervously. _How does he know?!_

“Nishinoya said you and Shoyo Hinata hooked up in Rio a few years back,” Iwaizumi leaned forward, “I want to know if it’s true.” Despite being drunk, his stare was serious, “And why you didn’t tell us.”

 _Of course,_ Oikawa frowned, _Of course Shoyo had to tell that short stack_. Oikawa considered his answer, but there was no way to deny it at this point. “So, what if it was true?” He was not looking at Iwaizumi as he said this and took the last sip of wine. “I don’t have to broadcast everything I do to you lot.”

The silence hung in the air, and when Oikawa finished his drink, he glanced back at Iwaizumi. The former ace now looked furious, his flushed cheeks a terrible contrast to his paled face; teeth gritted.

“You tell us _everything_ ,” Iwaizumi countered, voice rising, “You always have—”

“Well, _some_ of us aren’t on dates every five minutes,” Oikawa fired back, eyes narrowing, “because trust me if I were, I wouldn’t be televising it to you bunch of—”

“Who’s on a date every five minutes?!” Iwaizumi stared in disbelief. “Mattsun and Makki have been together for years – are you referring to _me_?! What are you talking about?!”

Oikawa hesitated. “We’re drunk, Iwa-Chan…maybe we shouldn’t talk about—”

“Then _when_ will we talk about it? On the phone next week when I’m thousands of miles away?” Iwaizumi cut him off, “Coward! If you like Hinata, it’s okay! I just don’t know why you didn’t tell us—”

It was Oikawa’s turn to cut him off with a loud, condescending laugh, “I don’t _like Hinata_ ,” he mocked, imitating Iwaizumi, “That’s not it at _all_!” Oikawa stormed around the kitchen counter, now standing in front of a seated Iwaizumi, “When all of that happened…I was mad at you, Iwa-chan.”

The former ace’s face went slack. “ _What_?”

“You were dating someone and I _hated_ it,” Oikawa’s cheeks were burning, “You have to have known I’ve liked you as more than a friend since our third year in high school…you _had_ to have known…,” he looked down at Iwaizumi, his eyes searching his friend’s face for affirmation. He desperately wanted proof that it was not all just in his head. Not after all these years.

Iwaizumi stared up at the former Seijoh captain. _It was true. Several times, especially towards the end of their high school careers, he wondered if he should confess to his best friend. But he knew; he knew their paths were going to diverge after high school, and he could not bring himself to admit something when he could not commit to it completely._ So, he had blocked out any of those feelings.

Iwaizumi noticed Oikawa had taken a step closer, now standing in between Iwaizumi’s legs.

The former ace blinked and sighed, “I didn’t date anyone.”

The setter gawked, “ _Excuse me_?!”

“I remember going on a date with someone,” Iwaizumi corrected with a sigh, his brows furrowing, “But that was literally the one time,” He hated how sad his love life in college had been. “Leave it to you to keep a grudge about something that stupid for _years_ —”

“You’re changing the subject,” Oikawa interrupted quietly.

“Because you’re an idiot, crappykawa,” Iwaizumi straightened on the bar stool, his back hitting the back of the kitchen counter, eyes rising closer to Oikawa’s level. “Of course, I’ve liked you all these years.”

“Why haven’t you said anything, then?” Oikawa’s stare was unwavering, cheeks red.

“Why haven’t _you_?” Iwaizumi threw back.

 _Not being able to walk the streets here with you, sit with you, dance with you, hold you –_ “Distance,” Oikawa finally admitted, jaw nearly dropping as he watched a wave of understanding wash over Iwaizumi’s face, “The same for you?”

Iwaizumi could only nod. Another moment of silence between them. “So…Hinata?”

“ _Ugh_ ,” Oikawa ran a hand to shield his eyes, embarrassed now, “I don’t know…it was in the moment…I was frustrated…and maybe lonely…and—”

“Needing some Vitamin D?” Iwaizumi offered stone-faced, causing Oikawa’s mouth to fall open.

The setter punched his friend’s arm, “ _No_! Iwa-chan! I’ll have you know he wasn’t a terrible kisser—”

“Annnnnd, that’s enough,” Iwaizumi interrupted, not wanting that particular mental image, “Forget I asked.”

But Oikawa was taking a step closer in between Iwaizumi’s legs, now almost flush to his chest, his chin near the top of Iwaizumi’s head; looking down at him.

“We’re best friends,” the setter started slowly, a hand timidly raised to Iwaizumi’s arm. “But I don’t think it’s enough anymore,” He smoothed the hand up the former ace’s bicep, satisfied with his shiver at Oikawa’s touch, “I’ve wanted to be more than that for a long time.” _It felt so good to finally say it. To have it out in the open._

Iwaizumi felt Oikawa’s hand rest at the nape of his neck. _He was not having this conversation sitting down_ ; rising from his seat to meet Oikawa nearly at eye-level. The setter was still slightly taller than him. “I didn’t want distance to hurt us,” the former ace admitted. “It’s hard for me to commit when we’re so far away from each other.”

“We can talk about all of those details later,” Oikawa’s eyes traced over Iwaizumi’s features, “Did you come all this way to Argentina just to drunkenly argue with me?”

Iwaizumi, the effects of the wine still ever-present, gave the setter a challenging look, “Why else did you think I came down here?”

Oikawa placed his other hand on Iwaizumi’s hip, leaning into him, “How about to drunkenly kiss me?”

“Gross,” Iwaizumi frowned, but did not move away. “Seriously, crappykawa?”

Oikawa was not deterred; he knew his best friend better than anyone else, and he knew when his tone was serious. This was not one of those moments. “Hmmm, fine,” Oikawa was dangerously close to Iwaizumi’s face now, “maybe I’ll just go call up Shoyo and ask hi—”

Iwaizumi lunged forward. Throwing away any hesitation, the ace’s lips collided with Oikawa’s, the setter parting his mouth ever so slightly so their mouths could fit together. Iwaizumi bunched the setter’s shirt into his fists, holding him close. Oikawa likewise snaked his hands under the former ace’s arms to clutch at his back.

Iwaizumi broke away from the kiss, “Sorry,” he breathed, “Oikawa—I—do you?” His eyes scanning over Oikawa, looking for confirmation.

The setter pressed his forehead against the ace’s, catching his breath. His eyes met Iwaizumi’s, “I’ve wanted this for so long,” his hands were running up Iwaizumi’s back, fingers memorizing every ridge, “But I won’t do anything you don’t want to, Iwa-chan.”

Iwaizumi drew Oikawa closer, breath soft and hot against his lips, “ _I want this_.”

Growing up together, all those games played as spiker and setter, the teary goodbye as they flew to opposite hemispheres, every conversation leading to this moment as they rushed forward, mouths locking and arms tangling. Iwaizumi pushed forward as Oikawa took a step back; the ace sliding his hands under Oikawa’s shirt, feeling the sculpted abdomen. The setter’s shirt had stretched tight over his shoulders and chest all day throughout Argentina, teasing Iwaizumi incessantly.

Oikawa smirked through their kiss, realizing the ace’s intention. “Here,” the setter momentarily released Iwaizumi from his grip and grabbed the shirt, tugging it over his head and throwing it to the floor. Another step back, and Oikawa fell backwards onto the couch, catching himself as Iwaizumi dropped to hover over him. 

“God, _you_ ,” Iwaizumi breathed, looking down at Oikawa beneath him. _This view._ Oikawa’s long torso, tanned from the southern sun, chiseled abs, and the v-shaped dip at his lower hips that met his track pants; the ace had missed the sight from practice, but it was obviously different now; his fingers gingerly running across the smooth skin, the setter trembling beneath him.

Oikawa exhaled, his head falling back, “You’re such a tease, Iwa-chan.” He lurched forward, rising to grab Iwaizumi by the waist, tugging his body against him. Their hips met and they both let out a throaty gasp. Oikawa’s mouth flew to the ace’s neck, sloppy kisses running up and down his skin, hands splaying against his back. Iwaizumi arched into the sensation, a low groan escaping him as Oikawa kissed his way towards his jaw.

As he rose, though, the ace heard Oikawa softly let out a curse. His eyes opened and he looked down; Oikawa’s injured knee was bent against the arm of the couch in an awkward position.

“Oi—Oikawa,” Iwaizumi lifted Oikawa to sit in his lap, panting as the setter nipped under his jaw.

The setter paused, face flushed and lips red, “What is it?” He noticed the uncomfortable look on Iwaizumi’s face, and then noticed his gaze was lingering on Oikawa’s knee. “Oh,” He wrapped his arms around Iwaizumi’s waist and pressed his lips against the ace’s ear, whispering, “To my room?” He felt the nod against his neck and smiled. It was difficult for Oikawa to hide the gentle smile spreading across his face as he led Iwaizumi off the couch. _God, he had waited so long for this._

Iwaizumi let Oikawa lead him to his room, the light from the living room allowing just enough visibility for the former ace to see the edge of Oikawa’s bed. The setter pulled Iwaizumi on top of him as he carefully laid against the mattress.

Iwaizumi, noticing the gesture, gave Oikawa a slightly stern look as the setter ran his hands under Iwaizumi’s shirt. “Hey,” he asked quietly, “You okay?”

“Don’t ruin the moment,” Oikawa assured him, “help me out, here.” He tugged at Iwaizumi’s shirt.

The former ace sighed and in a swift movement, shucked the shirt to the floor. Oikawa audibly breathed, soaking in the sight of his friend. He had not shirked in his workouts, either.

Iwaizumi took a moment to bask in his friend’s stare; a rare look of awe transfixed on the setter’s face. It was a look the former ace wanted to bottle forever. He felt bold, “Like what you see?” He teased with a husky voice.

“You have no idea,” Oikawa did not hesitate in his answer, wrapping his hands around Iwaizumi’s waist and pulling him down, connecting in a deep, slow kiss.

Iwaizumi pulled at Oikawa’s non-injured leg, hand running up the setter’s thigh. Oikawa pulled away from the kiss to let out a soft moan. Iwaizumi let his hip rise to grind against Oikawa, which elicited a gasp from the setter.

“Iwa,” Oikawa’s voice was shaky, hands running through Iwaizumi’s coarse hair. The former ace hummed his approval at the gesture, lips peppering across Oikawa’s collarbone. “ _Hajime_.”

The mention of his first name, the first time Oikawa had said it in _so_ long, sent the former ace into overdrive. He let out a deep, low groan and his hands tightened around Oikawa, hips grinding down harder, their bodies colliding. Oikawa gasped and his arms wrapped around Iwaizumi’s neck, panting, “You—”

“Keep saying it,” Iwaizumi glanced up at Oikawa, their eyes meeting. There was a hunger in Iwaizumi’s eyes the setter had not seen since their days together on the court, “Keep saying my name.”

Oikawa breathed, “Hajime—” he was stopped by a dry thrust from the former ace at the mention, that made Oikawa let out a soft moan. He regained himself, “We can—if you want—” the implication struck Iwaizumi, who paused, halfway kissing down Oikawa’s chest.

“Do you?” Iwaizumi asked in a haughty breath, his chest rising and falling, a bead of sweat rolling off his cheek.

“I do if you do,” Oikawa did not see any of this as rushing. _How long had they been together, just not physically?_ “The bottom drawer of the nightstand,” He motioned to point beside them.

The two glanced each other over, realizing they equally wanted this. The wine was long out of their system now, replaced by an entirely different type of warmth. Oikawa took this moment to catch his breath, his chest tightening in anticipation. He glanced down, catching the sight of Iwaizumi’s tanned skin, the way his abdomen stretched over him as he leaned to the side of the bed towards the nightstand. A thought struck him.

“Have you…,” Oikawa asked gingerly, as Iwaizumi rose back to hover over him. “…have you ever?” He was not sure how to phrase the question without ruining the mood.

Iwaizumi instantly knew what he was implying, “There was a girl in high school,” he offered quietly, to which Oikawa’s eyes widened in shock.

“Iwa-chan!” He raised up on his elbows, “You didn’t tell me!”

“It wasn’t anything worth telling,” Iwaizumi admitted with a shrug, “And I knew it’d make you mad. It was a bad decision at the time.”

Oikawa glanced him over. To Iwaizumi’s surprise, his response was not mad, but rather amused, “Huh. Well, I feel ridiculous, now.”

The former ace raised an eyebrow, “Why?”

“You have more experience than me,” Oikawa sunk back into the mattress and it was Iwaizumi’s turn to be surprised. _He’s never…?_

“But,” Iwaizumi lowered himself to where he was just inches above Oikawa’s face, “I thought…”

“I’ve made out and fooled around, sure,” Oikawa sighed, his breath hot against Iwaizumi’s cheek, “But never anything more…it probably sounds ridiculous, but…I didn’t want to with anyone…,” his eyes glanced down over Iwaizumi’s body hovering over him and then slowly back to the former ace’s eyes, “…else.”

The implication that Oikawa had been waiting for him, for _him_ , against all hope and odds, was more than enough to reignite the atmosphere around them. Hands sliding under Oikawa’s torso into the mattress, he pulled and engulfed the setter into a passionate kiss; his hands smoothing down the setter’s sides and catching at the hem of Oikawa’s track pants. The setter smiled through their kiss and Iwaizumi groaned, as a throaty “Torū,” escaped his lips.

Oikawa tugged at Iwaizumi’s hair, lifting the ace’s head so that their eyes met. The setter’s eyes were burning hungrily, and the former ace smirked.

“Feels good, doesn’t it?” Iwaizumi smiled, their first names now sliding off their tongues so casually, “ _Tor_ _ū_?”

Iwaizumi’s breath caught as he repeated Oikawa’s name; the setter already had his hands under the former ace’s shorts, pulling them off. The setter was shaking his head dismissively, but his eyes were molten, “You have no right being this good,” he palmed the former ace, who released a heavy groan, “ _Hajime_.”

Everything happened very quickly from that point. Iwaizumi was careful not to agitate Oikawa’s injured knee, raising his other so he could angle himself properly. Still, there was a moment as he lifted Oikawa off the mattress enough to enter that the setter jerked, and his knee fidgeted the wrong way.

“ _Que duele_ ,” Oikawa muttered in a deep breath. He noticed Iwaizumi pause, looking up at Oikawa with a breathless expression. “What?” the setter questioned; afraid he had ruined the moment.

“You…,” Iwaizumi ran his mouth across Oikawa’s neck, “Can you keep doing that?”

Oikawa looked like someone had just given him an early Christmas gift. He glided a hand around Iwaizumi’s neck, hand running up the back of his head, “Por supuesto… _Hajime_.”

The sound of Spanish and his first name spurned Iwaizumi back into action, a low groan escaping the former ace as he pressed into the setter. Oikawa gasped and threw his head back, almost laughing at how he was affecting Iwaizumi, “Pensar que esto sería tu _problema_ —” he was cut off by a thrust from below that turned his words into a low moan.

It all escalated: Oikawa vocalizing his thoughts in Spanish as Iwaizumi ravaged him, every so often, the former ace breathing “Torū” in between his thrusts and wet kisses. Everything spiraled, the two of them climbing higher and higher, until Iwaizumi wrapped his lubricated hand around Oikawa and the setter gasped, “ _Ah_ _Í, ah_ _Í, Hajime_!” And was undone, his back arching up from the mattress.

The moment, seeing Oikawa yell out his name, sweaty chest against his own as he clenched around Iwaizumi was enough to send him over the edge. Iwaizumi let out a deep moan, “Torū!” spilling from his lips a final time as he pressed his forehead down against Oikawa’s chest, his abdomen contracting and his muscles tightening. For a second, the two were breathless, the air salty and thick around them.

Finally, Iwaizumi took a deep breath and pulled away from Oikawa, pushing off the mattress. Oikawa realized what he was doing, “B-bathroom,” He stuttered, panting, “Over there,” he pointed to a closed door beside the entrance to the bedroom. Iwaizumi disappeared for a second and then returned with a warm wet washrag to clean up their mess.

Afterwards, Oikawa wrapped Iwaizumi into his arms as the former ace settled back into the bed with him, “Hmmm, how thoughtful of you, Iwa-chan…” Oikawa sighed, hugging him.

Iwaizumi’s torso above the covers, he did not argue with him, but wrapped one arm around the setter, the other settled between himself and the headboard. He glanced down at Oikawa, “I can’t believe it took us so long.”

Oikawa hummed in agreement, face nestled against Iwaizumi’s shoulder, “This was exactly how I hoped it would be.”

Iwaizumi let out a quiet, deep laugh, “Really? You rattling off in Spanish while I nearly knock you off the bed?” It was true, that had nearly happened half-way through their tussle. He looked down for Oikawa’s reply, but the setter’s eyes were closed, cheek squished against his shoulder, Oikawa’s mouth barely pursed open. He was already asleep. 

Iwaizumi slid back down into the bed, arm lazily wrapping around Oikawa, holding him in place as he faced the setter.

 _I was going to say ‘I love you,’ crappykawa_ … the ace mused, watching a brunette lock of the setter’s hair flutter as he exhaled. Somehow, his hair was still perfect, despite how much Iwaizumi had just ruffled it.

_Ah well, there’ll be other times to tell him, I’m sure._

* * *

**AUTHOR’S NOTE:**

I originally was going to have one more scene in this chapter to finish the story…but this was too good a spot to stop.

So, we’re having an Epilogue! One more chapter to go.

I hope you liked this chapter!

I’m not particularly experienced writing these lovey-dovey scenes, so I hope it was alright. *blushes*


	5. Summer, 2021

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I wanted to wait to release this as the last chapters of Haikyuu!! were released, to stay canon compliant as I could be. 
> 
> I’m sorry for making you wait, but I’m also so glad I did.  
> Happy Birthday, Oikawa! We love you, Great King!
> 
> Furudate, we love you. Notes at the end.  
> Enjoy, y’all.

**JULY 2021.**

Iwaizumi was nearly finished packing his bags. He reached for his favorite hardback, but Oikawa had already snatched it off the bed, holding it to his chest and thumbing through the pages. Iwaizumi walked up behind him, arms wrapping around the setter’s waist, holding him close. He settled his chin on Oikawa’s shoulder, “Can I have my book back?”

“This is the text that inspired you,” Oikawa answered, flipping the pages, “I’ve seen you reference this book a hundred times, yet it’s still hard to believe such a simple thing could have had such a big impact on someone.”

Iwaizumi smiled, his eyes glancing up at the setter, “Well, you did have an Argentinean setter sign your jockstrap all those years ago,” He pressed his lips to Oikawa’s neck, “I’d say it’s about the same.” 

The setter smiled, his eyes mischievous as he closed the book and turned to toss it onto Iwaizumi’s bag. He swiveled his body so that he was still in Iwaizumi’s arms, only facing him now. His surprise visit earlier in the week for Oikawa’s birthday had been one the setter would remember for a while now...he hated it was ending all too soon.

“Iwa-chan, it’s a twenty-three hour flight back to Japan,” Oikawa mused, his thumb running across Iwaizumi’s bottom lip. “And it’ll be another hour before the cab is here to take us to the airport…if you’re finished getting ready…,” he let his voice trail off innocently.

The former ace rolled his eyes and sighed, “Are you already done packing?”

“Finished first thing this morning!” Oikawa cheerfully motioned towards the series of suitcases in a pristine pile by the apartment door. Iwaizumi glanced at them, and then turned to meet Oikawa’s pleading _hurt puppy_ stare, as the former ace had dubbed it.

Finally sighing, Iwaizumi hugged Oikawa closer, trying to be nonchalant. “Fine.”

Oikawa, eyes gleaming, pressed a quick kiss to Iwaizumi's lips, breaking from the hug to grab Iwaizumi’s bags and lower them to the floor. In record speed, Oikawa had turned and clenched the former ace by the shirt, dragging them both onto the bed.

Hovering over Oikawa, Iwaizumi looked down and gave the setter a smirk, “Don’t expect me to be all handsy with you once we hit the streets of Japan.” 

“What?” Oikawa gave a matching sly smile back as he raised his head to kiss Iwaizumi just below the jawline, “Afraid Mattsun and Makki won’t let you hear the end of it?” 

_There was that._ Iwaizumi sighed, “You know I’m not into PDA.” The setter hummed in understanding, as his lips traced down to Iwaizumi’s neck, Oikawa tugging the top of his shirt down just enough to kiss his collarbone. 

“I know, Iwa-chan,” Oikawa smiled, his hands running under the ace’s shirt. “I love that about you...among other things,” his smile widened as Iwaizumi took the hint and pulled his shirt off. 

“You know we’re going to be against one another once we're there?” Iwaizumi shucked the shirt to the floor, his arms gripping Oikawa’s sides.

It was true; Iwaizumi months ago had accepted a position as Japan’s National Team athletic trainer. It was a dream come true for him to be back home, representing his country...but it also meant that he would potentially be on the team facing his boyfriend head-on in competition. 

The thought of him finally facing his best friend in a heated Olympic match, though, pumped blood through Iwaizumi's veins and put him in a euphoric state; the reminder causing him to nearly devour Oikawa in a passionate kiss, who hummed in approval, before breaking away after several seconds to breathe.

“It's fine. Besides,” the setter finally added, panting, his palms running across Iwaizumi’s tanned chest. The last few days in Argentina had darkened the former ace considerably, “I don’t want to give your precious team any hints as to our personal lives. I want those fools’ imaginations to run wild, thinking about what you and I do when we’re alone.” 

Iwaizumi let out a sigh, which broke off into a groan as Oikawa leaned over to nip the skin right under his pectoral muscle, “You really are a shitty person, sometimes.”

Oikawa paused halfway through a sloppy kiss at his neck, smiling slyly up at Iwaizumi.

“Only sometimes, _Hajime_.” 

* * *

**AUGUST 2021.**

The Olympics had been delayed a year, but the stage was still the same. After twelve days of competition, the moment had finally arrived: Argentina vs. Japan. 

Oikawa had not seen any of his former high school rivals since touching down in Japan. It was part of his routine before a match not to interact with any of his opposing players, though Iwaizumi had been required to see the other players on Japan’s National Team for training and practice matches long before the Olympics started.

_“Does it bother you that we might be facing Oikawa’s team in the finals?” Hinata asked Iwaizumi one afternoon after practice, as everyone was on their final stretches._

_The redhead's gaze was innocent. The former ace considered Hinata's question for a moment, before his face twisted into a devilish grin._

_“The chance for us to topple over Oikawa in an actual match? Oh, I’m not bothered,” Iwaizumi’s eyes were fire, causing the orange-haired man to audibly gulp, “I’ve waited for this day for years.”_

_Hinata chuckled nervously in reply, but stared cautiously at Iwaizumi as he turned back to Atsumu Miya, who was stretching beside him. He whispered, “I didn’t think that Iwaizumi would be that eager to fight against The Great King! I thought they were best friends!”_

_Kageyama, who was stretching on the other side of Shoyo, scoffed, “No, Iwaizumi has always had a competitive streak with Oikawa...you just wouldn’t know it because they were on the same team together.”_

_“OH!” Hinata beamed, as if a lightbulb lit above his head, “Kind of like you and me, right?!”_

_Kageyma grimaced, and Atsumu Miya laughed at his expression, snaking an arm around Hinata’s shoulders, “Hey now, what about our secret rivalry?” He teased, his voice low and seductive._

_Hinata laughed, “Astumu! We don’t have a rivalry!”_

_Simultaneously, Kageyama yelled out, “What rivalry?! You just want to sit there and put your hands all over him all day like he’s a stray puppy you found!” Atsumu just innocently blinked back with his head resting on Shoyo’s shoulder, hands now embracing Shoyo’s waist. “See?! QUIT IT!” Kageyama roared._

_Sakusa walked past a confused Iwaizumi, shaking his head, “Don’t bother. We’ve not been able to make heads or tails of it, either.”_

* * *

The crowd was roaring in anticipation for the two teams to walk onto the court. Hinata, in awe, let out a “ _Woaaah_!” as the lights overhead blinded them. 

Kageyama was chastising him about something, Hinata snapping back with a frown, but Iwaizumi wasn’t paying attention to their conversation. His eyes immediately fell to the other side of the arena, where Argentina was entering at the same time. 

Hinata’s eyes widened, “Look! There’s Oikawa!” He pointed to the man in the middle of the pack of players.

A murmur ran across several on the team, mainly between Kageyama, Hinata, and Ushijima, who had all faced “The Great King” firsthand before. 

Iwaizumi could see the number 13 emboldened at the front of Oikawa's blue jersey. The same number his coach and idol, Jose Blanco, had donned in his days on Argentina’s team. Now Oikawa could claim it as his own. 

But it was Oikawa’s _smile_ that caught Iwaizumi’s eye.

In all the years of school they played, Oikawa would saunter forward towards the net, hands shaking flamboyantly; a plastered on, fake smile across his lips. He had been tall and lean, but almost gangly in his youth; as if his body hadn’t found a way to catch up with his height.

Oikawa in his Argentina Nationals Uniform, on the Olympic stage, was a _man_. His body had filled into his broad shoulders; exercising properly the last several years had served him well, his knees no longer in the secured brace for injuries, thighs and biceps toned. 

And his smile. A genuine, sincere smile as he walked towards the net. He wasn’t putting on airs; when he turned and told his team something, they all smiled and nodded in agreement. When his eyes turned back, there was a competitive gleam that Iwaizumi _adored_. It fired him up, and the former ace felt his chest puff slightly as he cracked his knuckle against the other hand. 

Iwaizumi surveyed the monster players on either side of him, all walking forward in the same direction; he let a smirk flash across his face as he remembered: 

_“Oh, but if we play each other, I’ll grind you in the dirt,” Iwaizumi noted, that night after their last game against Karasuno, as he pressed his closed fist next to his setter’s._

_“Back at you,” Oikawa had smiled slyly, returning the gesture._

Now, over half a decade later, Iwaizumi had arrived, with the fiercest team Japan could pull together beside him, ready to challenge his best friend, his lover, in a final confrontation on the world’s stage.

Iwaizumi wondered what Oikawa was thinking; if he was feeling that same surge of adrenaline and was thinking the same as he was in that moment.

His thoughts were broken by Hinata’s loud, “Oikawa-san!” as the redhead rushed across the net and gave Oikawa a giant embrace.

Oikawa, smile still sincere, fell into the hug and yelled back, “Shoyo!”

Kageyama and Ushijima looked as if they could vomit at any given moment. Bokuto was bobbing on either side of them, inquiring, “Oh! I didn’t know they were such close friends!” 

Simultaneously, Atsumu Miya bore a nervous grin, facing Sakusa, “I mean, that’s fine that Shoyo has such a close friendship with our opposing team’s setter. Perfectly fine! I’m not complaining!” 

Sakusa rolled his eyes, “Save your jealousy for after the match.” 

“Jealousy?! I’m not _jealous_!” Atsumu scoffed loudly as they walked away from where Iwaizumi stood.

He had to agree with Atsumu and admit for a moment that he, too, felt a sting of jealousy watching Oikawa and Hinata embracing. But it was short lived. 

_“I know you said you may not want any public displays,” Oikawa eased his hand above the sheets to make small circles on Iwaizumi’s bare chest, “but there’s a good chance I won’t be able to stop people from being all over me at the arena.” His voice was light and playful, but it stopped short when Iwaizumi grabbed his hand as it traced mid-circle._

_“What are you saying?” his green eyes focused on Oikawa, who smiled serenely._

_The setter leaned behind him and grabbed his phone from the hotel night stand. He pulled open a text and flashed it before Iwaizumi. The text read simply:_

**_Shoyo:_ ** _Oikawa! I can’t wait to see you at the Olympics! We’re going to beat you!_

_Iwaizumi frowned, “And?” His gaze shifted back to Oikawa’s, who was now eyeing him suspiciously._

_“If Shoyo were to high-five me or fist bump me on national television during a potential match...you wouldn’t be jealous?”_

_Iwaizumi sighed, “No, unlike you, I don’t let simple things like that rile me up.”_

It had been more than a fist bump, though, and the athletic trainer could see Oikawa glancing his way as he parted from Shoyo’s hug. His eyes questioned silently, _“Jealous, Iwa-chan?”_

To which Iwaizumi cracked his knuckles and shot Oikawa a fierce smirk, as if to reply, _“Seriously, shittykawa? Who do you think you’re talking to?”_

* * *

Iwaizumi panted as he pulled away from Oikawa and fell against the hotel bed beside him. The setter, sweat rolling down his face, let out a bark of a laugh as Iwaizumi hit the mattress. 

“If I knew that you’d get so worked up in a game against me,” Oikawa’s breath heavy, “I may have actually gone to Shiratorizawa.” 

Iwaizumi let out a chuckle in between pants, turning to face Oikawa, “That first serve you gave,” his hand settled behind the setter’s neck, “I didn’t know they’d be able to dig it up.” 

“That stupid freak wrist,” Oikawa pouted, referring to Sakusa, “I was wanting a service ace to start the match, and instead he sets it up for Shoyo and Tobio-Chan to score the first point.” 

Iwaizumi smiled as his lips ghosted across Oikawa’s, “That _was_ the plan.” 

“You really wanted to ‘grind me into the dirt,’ didn’t you?” Oikawa smiled coolly, arm finding its way under the covers to slide around Iwaizumi’s waist. The setter leaned closer, his voice almost a whisper, “Coming at me with all those monsters--” 

“Hey,” Iwaizumi stopped him with a chaste kiss, his brow raising, “let me catch my breath for a second before we start round two.” 

Oikawa paused and stared at him for a moment, before letting out a laugh and pulling back, much to Iwaizumi’s dismay. The Argentinean sat up, and ran a hand through his hair, softly chuckling.

“Hey, wait--” Iwaizumi followed suit and sat up in confusion, “--I wasn’t trying to kill the mood or anything,” He waved a hand in protest, his face serious, “but how you can have all that stamina after that many sets--” 

“--No, no,” Oikawa cut him off, glancing back at him with the most sincere of smiles the trainer had seen on his face in a while; even more so than during the match today. “I was just thinking... _round two_.” He glanced at his feet and then back to Iwaizumi. “Moving forward...what are we doing?”

Iwaizumi stared at Oikawa, his eyes scanning the setter’s face. _Had they not talked about this?_ “We were so caught up with the Olympics...” he started, voice trailing off. 

“I’m not leaving Argentina,” Oikawa smiled, though it was softer, sadder. “I just received my citizenship last year...and we will already be prepping for the next Olympic run.” He shifted his body towards Iwaizumi, “And I know you’re not leaving Japan anytime soon, are you?” 

“I want to stay for a while, yeah,” Iwaizumi nodded, “And same here...if we go up against you at the Olympic games again,” He shifted, hand now gripping Oikawa’s bicep, eyes drifting across Oikawa’s sculpted torso up to his eyes, his face spreading into a smirk, “Well...I wouldn’t be opposed to that.” 

The two eyed each other and then Oikawa let out a soft exhale, as if bracing himself for what his friend was about to say. Iwaizumi took the lead, 

“But I’m not ending things with you.” 

Oikawa’s eyes snapped towards Iwaizumi, the trainer’s face still holding that smirk. 

“We stayed apart for how many years while you were in Argentina and I was in the States?” His hand slid up to cup the side of Oikawa’s face, “If you think that a plane ride is going to cause all of our years together and these emotions to amount to nothing,” His brow raised, “then you really are a shittier person than I’ve given you credit for.” 

There was a stillness in the air. Oikawa breathed, and he swore he could hear the sound of air entering his lungs. “ _Hajime…_ ,” Oikawa exhaled. He suddenly broke from Iwaizumi’s grip and lunged off the bed, leaving his friend frozen in place. 

“Oi, Toru--” Iwaizumi called out, as Oikawa, naked in the moonlit hotel room, stumbled towards his suitcases. "What are you--," he stopped mid-sentence, when he saw Oikawa fumbling through one of the bags, before apparently finding what he wanted.

The setter straightened, turned, and slowly approached the bed, his left hand clenched into a fist. 

Oikawa laid a hand to his right knee, the one that had always been injured...up until the last few years when he finally was able to rehabilitate it to perfect working condition, through many physical therapy treatments and routines. His knee gave him no indication of pain now, as Oikawa stroked the small blue velvet box in his other hand. 

Iwaizumi stared down at him from the bed, mouth dropping open as Oikawa bent down on the formerly injured knee. “You’re my partner that I can be proud of,” Oikawa repeated the words Iwaizumi had told him all those years ago as they walked home from losing their game against Karasuno, “and an incredible athletic trainer.” He added, a soft smile visible in the moonlight, “I love you, Hajime.” He opened the box and there was a plain silver band with small grooves engraved around it. “We may not be able to here in Japan...but would you eventually marry me in Argentina?” 

Iwaizumi silently held his gaze on Oikawa for what seemed like several minutes, before he let out a loud, heavy sigh, his face falling into his hands. 

“ _Toru_ …,” Iwaizumi shot him an incredulous look, “You’re proposing to me naked.”

Oikawa let out an audible squeak, “Well--uh- _-yes_ ,” He mumbled, “I just--it seemed like the right moment and--”

“ _The right moment_ ?!” Iwaizumi held out his arms in disbelief, “So when people ask us how we got engaged, I have to tell them that you stumbled around our hotel room naked as a newborn baby until you found the engagement ring you’d been hauling around -- _in your suitcase_ \-- since who knows when--”

“Iwa-chan.” 

Iwaizumi stopped, noticing the pale look that had overcome Oikawa’s face. “What?” The trainer asked, his brow furrowing in concern. The setter looked like he’d seen a ghost. 

“You…,” Oikawa gasped, “You said ‘when people asked how we got engaged,’” and Iwaizumi realized his words, his face turning a fiery shade of red. “You...so _you_ ….,” Oikawa looked like he might faint; he started to reel backwards, as Iwaizumi, equally naked, lunged forward and grabbed him by the shoulders to steady him beside the bed. 

“Idiot,” Iwaizumi chided him softly, shaking his head. “I love your scrawny ass,” his face broke into a grin, “so of course I’ll marry you,” the grin turned sly, “eventually in Argentina.” 

Oikawa looked on the verge of tears, as he leapt back onto the bed and into Iwaizumi’s arms. Iwaizumi held the box in his hand, taking the ring out of it. “Wait, let me!” Oikawa grabbed the ring from the former ace and, slowing down, slid it on Iwaizumi’s finger. As he did, his voice turned mischievous, “Oh, and I believe I’ve worked quite hard these last few years to not have a scrawny ass anymore, thank you very much.” 

The setter eyed the ring on Iwaizumi’s finger with pride. The former ace gazed back at him suspiciously, which Oikawa noticed, adding sheepishly, “And my ring is in the suitcase, too.” He saw Iwaizumi raise an eyebrow, “I just didn’t want to get it out yet...in case you said ‘no.’”

There was a pause, before Iwaizumi let out a loud laugh, to which Oikawa pouted. Iwaizumi sighed, pulling Oikawa close to him, “The best setter in the damn world,” he shook his head, “and you’re still a complete disaster sometimes, trashykawa.” 

Oikawa closed the distance between them, “Well, now I’m _your_ complete disaster, Iwa-chan.”

* * *

**AUTHOR'S NOTE:**

You all...the final chapter of _Haikyuu!!_ was everything. It was just **SO GOOD.**

I'm so satisfied at the ending, and I wanted to wait and have this chapter posted in time for our favorite Grand King's Birthday.

Furudate is a genius, and I love the final showdown between Oikawa and Iwaizumi in the manga. It was so _perfect_. 

Thank you all so much for reading and supporting this little short story!  
Here's to many more _Haikyuu!!_ fics in the future!

I hope you all liked this fic! I'm going to hopefully post some fan art from the Japan Team's reactions in this chapter on my tumblr. 

And here's some fanart from this chapter: https://rhetorical-ink.tumblr.com/post/624553260305514496/so-yeah-i-wrote-a-shameless-iwaoi-fan-fic-based


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